THE 


SEASONS  „  THOMSON. 


The  Seasons 


Jamesl  Thomson 


With  the  Original  Steel  Engravings  from  the 
designs  of  Richard  Westall,  K.A. 


New  York 
Frederick  A.  Stokes  &  Brother 

MDCCCLXXXIX 


Library 


CONTENTS. 


Spring, 

Summer, 

Autumn, 

Winter, 

Hymn, 


PAGE 

124 

l73 
211 


THE  subject  proposed.  Inscribed  to  the  Countess  of  Hartford. 
The  Season  is  described  as  it  affects  the  various  jmrts  of 
Nature,  ascending  from  the  lower  to  the  higher ;  with  di- 
gressions arising  from  the  subject.  Its  influence  on  inanimate 
Matter,  on  Vegetables,  on  brute  Animals,  and  last,  on  Man ; 
concluding  with  a  dissuasive  from  the  wild  and  irregular 
passion  of  Love,  opposed  to  that  of  a  pure  and  happy  kind. 


CRITICAL  OBSERVATIONS. 


WHEN  the  Author  of  the  SEASONS  came  to  London 
in  pursuit  of  patronage  and  fame,  his  first  want,  his 
biographer  informs  us,  was  a  pair  of  shoes.  "  For  the 
supply  of  all  his  necessities,  his  whole  fund  was  his 
"  Winter,"  which  for  a  time  could  find  no  purchaser  ; 
till,  at  last,  Mr.  Millar,  a  bookseller  in  the  Strand, 
was  persuaded  to  buy  it  at  a  low  price  ;  and  this  low 
price  he  had  for  some  time  reason  to  regret."  We  are 
not  informed  what  estimate  Thomson  himself  had 
formed  of  his  production  :  whether  with  self -supported 
confidence  he  anticipated  the  reception  it  would  even- 
tually meet  with  from  the  public,  or  whether  he  was 
satisfied  to  dispose  of  his  unproductive  treasure  for  a 
sum  that  provided  for  the  wants  of  the  moment — as 
he  would  have  disposed  of  a  precious  stone  of  uncertain 
value  to  the  first  lapidary  who  would  set  a  price  upon 
it.  In  his  most  sanguine  and  ambitious  moments  he 
could  not  have  ventured  to  hope,  that  the  poem  would 
ultimately  not  only  amply  reward  its  purchaser,  but 
take  its  rank  among  productions  which  are  considered 
as  eras  in  our  literature,  and  become  identified  with 
the  language. 

The    SEASONS    is  one  of   those   rare   and  original 
productions,  in  which,  at  distant  intervals  in  the  pro- 
gress of  literature,  genius  appears  to  burst  forth  in 
distinct  individuality  of  character,  in  spite,  it  may  be, 
A 


1326456 


6  THE  SEASONS. 

of  the  bad  taste  or  prevailing  mediocrity  of  the  period. 
There  is  in  the  human  frame  a  perfect  but  indefinable 
correspondence  which  extends  to  every  joint,  to  the 
very  hair  of  the  head :  the  artificial  violation  of  this 
liarmony  is  immediately  perceptible.  Something  of 
this  kind  exists  with  respect  to  the  productions  of 
real  genius.  As  models,  they  will  be  found  exceed- 
ingly defective.  They  would  mislead  as  much  as  they 
defy  imitation.  But  there  is  in  them,  as  a  whole,  a 
certain  homogeneousness  of  expression  which  rescues 
even  their  faults  from  impropriety.  They  please  or 
affect  us,  not  so  much  by  particular  qualities  of  excel- 
lence as  by  the  force  of  character  diffused  through  the 
production,  and  by  that  Promethean  power  which  the 
poet  appears  to  possess  of  making  his  words  glow  and 
breathe  with  instinctive  life.  Milton  and  Thomson, 
although  immeasurably  dissimilar,  may  yet  be  adduced 
as  two  remarkable  instances  of  poets  whose  chief 
works  have  attained  an  almost  equal  degree  of  popu- 
larity, and  have  produced  a  powerful  effect  on  our 
literature  ;  and  yet,  in  point  of  style  and  diction  they 
elude  all  attempts  at  successful  imitation  :  the  one 
by  a  severe  majesty  of  manner  which  ill  befits  an 
inferior  subject,  or  the  productions  of  an  inferior 
mind  ;  the  other,  the  Johnson  of  poetry,  has  a  gait 
of  natural  pomp,  which  it  is  mimicry  to  adopt ; 
the  moment  it  appears  to  be  artificial  it  becomes 
ridiculous. 

The  causes  which  have  contributed  to  the  universal 
popularity  of  this  original  poem  are,  we  do  not  scruple 
to  say,  not  more  its  Merits,  than  its  Subject  and  its 
Defect*.  Uow  much  is  due  to  the  Subject  might  be 


CRITICAL   OBSERVATIONS.  7 

presumed  from  the  circumstance  that  this  alone  of 
Thomson's  poems  has  maintained  itself  in  public 
favour,  although,  in  the  opinion  of  competent  critics, 
it  is  not  his  best.  Few  titles  have  been  found  less 
attractive  than  "The  Poetical  Works  of  James 
Thomson,"  at  the  very  time  that  his  SEASONS  are 
circulating  in  every  form  the  press  can  give  them, 
Dr.  Johnson's  sentence  upon  LIBERTY  and  BRITANNIA 
has  never  been  reversed  (for  once,  as  a  critic,  he  was 
just)  ;  aiid  even  "  The  Castle  of  Indolence "  is  more 
praised  than  read.  Thomson's  subject  was  a  happy 
one  ;  but  what  rendered  it  particularly  so  was,  that 
when  he  wrote  it  was  a  subject  altogether  open  to  a 
poet  who  wished  to  succeed  by  novelty.  Spenser  was 
obsolete ;  Milton  had  been  generallyneglected ;  Addison 
having  then  only  recently  done  himself  the  honour  of 
introducing  the  Paradise  Lost  to  the  notice  of  the  public. 
With  these  great  exceptions,  there  existed  little  descrip- 
tive poetry  worthy  of  the  name.  The  principal  use 
which  had  been  made  of  natural  scenery  was  as  an 
eternal  storehouse  of  similies  for  the  inditers  of  heroics, 
or  of  love  elegies  and  madrigals.  The  absurdities  of 
many  of  our  town-bred  or  scholastic  verse-men,  in  what 
then  passed  for  descriptive  poetry,  form  a  standing 
subject  of  ridicule.  In  vain  shall  we  look  among  the 
works  of  the  best  of  our  poets,  from  the  time  of 
Elizabeth  to  this  period,  for  any  traces  of  accurate 
observation  or  genuine  feeling  in  reference  to  the 
beauties  of  Nature.  "  From  Dryden  to  Thomson,"  a 
very  competent  authority  has  remarked,  "  there  is 
scarcely  a  rural  image  drawn  from  life  to  be  found  in 
any  of  the  English  poets  except  Gay."  Pope,  who  in 

A2 


THE   8KASONS. 

his  "Windsor  Forest"  seemed  to  have  taken  Denham  as 
his  model,  as  if  ambitious  of  excelling  in  descriptive 
poetry,  discovers  much  of  the  same  French  taste,  the 
same  want  of  native  and  appropriate  feeling,  which 
are  chargeable  on  his  predecessors.  A  poet  then  hud 
only  to  copy  the  every-day  beauties  of  nature,  in  the 
anguage  of  a  genuine  lover  of  nature,  to  be  original. 
Thomson,  partly  from  early  habits,  partly  perhaps 
from  accident,  struck  into  this  path.  In  his  schoolboy 
days,  with  Virgil  in  his  haud,  he  walked  abroad,  amid 
scenes  sufficient  to  awaken  all  the  enthusiasm  he  pos- 
sessed, which  was  that  of  an  artist.  He  saw,  as 
Johnson  remarks,  everything  with  the  eye,  though 
he  does  not  appear  to  have  felt  everything  with  the 
heart  of  a  poet.  His  subject  was  a  fortunate  choice. 
It  admitted  of  being  treated  in  that  desultory  manner 
which  best  suited  the  character  of  his  mind.  There 
was  abundant  scope  for  all  the  ditfuseness  of  senti- 
mental description,  and  for  all  the  gorgeousness  of 
colouring.  Throughout  the  SEASONS  it  is  to  the 
senses,  however,  rather  than  to  the  heart,  that  the 
appeal  is  made.  It  is  as  much  a  painting  as  a  poem. 

As,  when  Thomson  published  his  "  Winter,"  the 
subject  had  the  advantage  of  novelty  ;  so  the  SEASONS 
still  preserves  its  rank  as  the  first  descriptive  poem  in 
the  language.  It  is  one  among  our  earliest  favourites 
which  serve  to  awaken  a  sensibility  to  the  beauties  of  ex- 
ternal nature.  We  read  it  with  avidity,and  perhapswith 
enthusiasm,  at  the  period  when  our  imagination  first 
l-.'-ins  to  exercise  itself  on  the  objects  of  poetry  ;  and 
it  retains  much  of  its  interest  in  after  life,  from  brin^ 
with  the  scenes  of  our  youthful  pleasures. 


CRITICAL   OBSERVATIONS.  9 

When  we  attribute  the  popularity  which  this  poem 
has  obtained,  in  some  degree  to  its  Defects,  we  allude 
not  only  to  the  faults  of  the  style,  but  to  the  very 
cast  of  thought,  and  the  intellectual  quality  of  the 
sentiments,  by  which  the  poem  is  characterised.  A 
contemporary  critic  has  remarked  that,  "There  are 
few  minds  in  which  the  love  of  poetry  does  not  form 
a  sort  of  intellectual  instinct ;  an  instinct  often  blind 
and  indiscriminating,  yet  having  reference  to  some- 
thing nobler  than  the  wants  of  the  physical  being,  and 
valuable  as  connected  with  the  first  development  of 
the  imagination  and  passions.  The  poetry  which  aims 
at  popularity  must  be  adapted  to  that  numerous  class 
of  readers  in  whom  this  instinctive  feeling  exists,  but 
who  have  stopped  short  at  a  very  low  degree  of 
mental  cultivation,  or  whose  imagination  has  been 
neglected  amid  the  pursuits  of  after  life."  There  is 
nothing  in  Thomson  that  requires  any  painfvil  exercise 
in  the  faculties,  that  calls  for  any  of  the  higher  exer- 
tions of  the  imagination,  or  that  soars  beyond  the 
experience  of  the  humblest  intellect.  His  style  is 
indeed  learned  and  ornate.  But  Burke  has  shown  that 
words  may  the  most  powerfully  affect  the  mind  when 
their  meaning  is  indefinite.  Where  Thomson's  language 
is  the  most  inflated,  his  expressions  have  generally  a 
specious  grandeur  of  meaning  derived  from  the  felicity 
with  which  they  are  selected.  His  genius  is  in  this 
respect  conspicuous  :  like  the  evening  sun,  which  im- 
parts pomp  and  brightness  to  the  unsubstantial  clouds 
with  which  it  is  enveloped,  it  changes  the  very  char- 
acter of  the  faults  which  it  appropriates. 

The  greatest  defect  in  the  SEASONS  respects  the  cast 


10  THE   SEASONS. 

of  its  moral  sentiments  ;  but  iu  this  respect  it  is  not 
the  less  adapted  to  the  more  numerous  class  of  the 
readers  of  poetry.  The  Religion  of  the  SEASONS  is  of 
that  general  kind  which  Nature's  self  might  teach  to 
those  who  had  no  knowledge  of  the  God  of  Revelation. 
It  is  a  lofty  and  complacent  sentiment,  which  plays 
upon  the  feelings  like  the  ineffable  power  of  solemn 
harmony,  but  has  no  reference  to  the  quality  of  our 
belief,  to  the  dispositions  of  the  heart,  or  to  the 
habitual  tendency  of  the  character ;  still  less  does  it 
involve  a  devotional  recognition  of  the  revealed  char- 
acter of  the  Divine  Being.  But  on  this  very  account 
the  SEASONS  was  adapted  to  please  at  the  time  that 
Pope  ruled  the  republic  of  taste,  and  to  the  same 
cause  the  poem  is  still  indebted  for  at  least  some  of 
its  admirers. 

The  love  of  the  poet  of  the  SEASONS  is  the  "  Passion 
of  the  Groves."  The  author,  it  in  said,  was  su«- 
'•cptible  of  no  higher  sentiment.  There  is  a  prevailing 
vulgarity  of  feeling  on  this  subject  which  is  only 
concealed  by  the  splendour  of  the  diction.  The  poet's 
ideas  of  love  are  such  as  a  schoolboy  would  naturally 
<|t  rive  from  the  perusal  of  the  Pantheon  and  Ovid  * 
Mi  tamorphoses.  We  know  we  shall  offend  common 
prejudice  in  pronouncing  the  tale  of  Musidora,  which 
has  furnished  so  many  artists  with  a  subject,  and  the 
publishers  of  so  many  editions  of  Thomson  with  a 
captivating  embellishment,  to  be  as  vulgarly  con- 
ceived, and  to  be  as  coarse  in  sentiment,  though  not 
in  rxpivswinn,  as  a  Dutch  painting.  But  still  Tlmm- 
.-•11  is  chastity  and  purity  itself  in  comparison  with 
ii temporaries.  Then-  ix  always  an  air  of  elegance 


CRITICAL   OBSERVATIONS.  11 

and  even  of  refinement  thrown  over  his  warmest  pic- 
tures. The  SEASONS,  though  they  may  administer  fuel 
to  an  excited  imagination,  contain  scarcely  an  expres- 
sion that  would  raise  the  blush  of  modesty.  This 
decorum  of  expression  extends  also  in  general  to  his 
ideas  ;  and  he  is  not  perhaps  to  be  blamed  if  these  do 
not  rise,  in  point  of  elevation  of  sentiment,  above 
the  level  of  his  experience. 

We  are  indebted,  however,  to  Thomson  for  one 
passage  on  domestic  happiness,  at  the  conclusion  of 
his  "  Spring,"  which  does  high  credit  to  his  feelings 
as  a  man  and  as  a  poet.  Thomson  never  loved  ; 
but  he  was  not  an  unamiable  character.  He  was  an 
affectionate  brother :  his  benevolence,  though  it  par- 
took of  the  indolence  of  his  character,  was  fervid  ;  and 
by  his  friends,  we  are  told,  he  was  very  tenderly  and 
warmly  beloved. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  dwell  on  the  beauties  or  merits 
of  his  great  poem.  Johnson  has  remarked  that  "  his 
mode  of  thinking  and  of  expressing  his  thoughts  is 
original."  This  is  no  small  praise.  His  descriptions, 
varying  and  rising  with  his  subject,  are  at  times  mag- 
nificent ;  at  other  times  they  display  all  the  minute 
accuracy  only  to  be  obtained  by  familiar  observation. 
No  one  but  an  angler  could  have  described  with  so 
felicitous  correctness  the  fly-fisher's  sport  in  the  first 
Season.  There  breathes  throughout  his  poem  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  poet  of  nature  ;  and  if  we  cannot 
allow  that  the  reader  of  the  SEASONS  "  wonders  that 
he  never  saw  before  what  Thomson  shows  him,"  unless 
it  be  a  reader  unaccustomed  to  hold  converse  with  the 
beautiful  in  the  material  world,  yet  he  derives  a  high 


12  THE  SEASONS. 

and  more  genuine  gratification  in  finding  the  scenes 
he  loves  described  so  well. 

James  Thomson  was  born  at  Ednam,  in  the  shire  of 
Roxburg,  in  1700.  "  Winter"  was  published  in  1726  ; 
"Summer"  and  "Spring"  in  the  following  years  ;  and 
"  Autumn,"  with  his  collected  works,  in  1730.  The 
incidents  of  his  life  consisted  of  the  patronage  he  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining,  and  the  disappointments  he  had 
to  encounter.  His  mother  lived  to  see  her  son  rising 
into  eminence.  Through  the  friendship  of  Lord  Lyt- 
tleton,  he  was  established  in  case,  if  not  in  affluence, 
when,  taking  cold  on  the  water  between  London  and 
Kew,  he  caught  a  disorder,  which,  with  some  cart-loss 
exasperation,  terminated  fatally,  August  27,  1748.  A 
tablet  has  been  recently  placed  on  the  wall  of  Rich- 
mond church,  by  the  exertions  of  Mr.  Park,  in  con- 
junction with  Lord  Buclian,  to  denote  the  place  of  1m 
interment 


TO  THE  SHADE  OF  THOMSON. 

OX  CROWNING   HIS   BUST  WITH   BAYS. 

WHILE  virgin  Spring,  by  Eden's  flood, 
Unfolds  her  tender  mantle  green, 

Or  pranks  the  sod  in  frolic  mood, 
Or  tunes  Eolian  strains  between  : 

While  Summer  with  a  matron  grace 
Eetreats  to  Dryburgh's  cooling  shade, 

Yet  oft,  delighted,  stops  to  trace 
The  progress  of  the  spiky  blade  : 

While  Autumn,  benefactor  kind, 

By  Tweed  erects  his  aged  head, 
And  sees,  with  self -approv  ing  mind, 

Each  creature  on  his  bounty  fed  : 

While  maniac  Winter  rages  o'er 
The  hills  whence  classic  Yarrow  flows 

Rousing  the  turbid  torrent's  roar, 
Or  sweeping,  wild,  a  waste  of  snows  : 

So  long,  sweet  poet  of  the  year  ! 

Shall  bloom  that  wreath  thou  well  hast  won  ; 
While  Scotia,  with  exulting  tear, 

Proclaims  that  THOMSON  was  her  son. 

BURNS. 


togrtho  In  i! 


Th«  ""-"^g  devi.oid  gathrr  in  ihnr  pnmr 
Trrsh  M~»^"^  fkwrri.to  grarr  thv  In  .min!  lull 


SPRING 


WKNTM.I.H  A   RX(HOIVKI>   BT  CHAKI.K.S    M01.I.N 


THE  SEASONS. 


SPRING. 

COME,  gentle  SPRING,  ethereal  Mildness,  come, 
And  from  the  bosom  of  yon  dropping  cloud,' 
While  music  wakes  around,  veil'd  in  a  shower 
Of  shadowing  roses,  on  our  plains  descend. 

O  Hartford,  fitted  or  to  shine  in  courts 
With  unaffected  grace,  or  walk  the  plain 
With  innocence  and  meditation  join'd 
In  soft  assemblage,  listen  to  my  song, 
Which  thy  own  Season  paints  ;  when  Nature  all 
Is  blooming  and  benevolent,  like  thee. 

And  see  where  surly  WINTER  passes  off, 
Far  to  the  north,  and  calls  his  ruffian  blasts  : 
His  blasts  obey,  and  quit  the  howling  hill, 
The  shattered  forest,  and  the  ravag'd  vale  ; 

While  softer  gales  succeed,  at  whose  kind  touch, 
B 


18  THE  SEASONS. 

Dissolving  snows  in  livid  torrents  lost, 

The  mountains  lift  their  green  heads  to  the  sky. 

As  yet  the  trembling  year  is  unconfirm'd, 
And  Winter  oft  at  eve  resumes  the  breeze, 
Chills  the  pale  morn,  and  bids  his  driving  sleets 
Deform  the  day  delightless  ;  so  that  scarce 
The  bittern  knows  his  time,  with  bill  ingulft 
To  shake  the  sounding  marsh  :  or  from  the  shore 
The  plovers  when  to  scatter  o'er  the  heath, 
And  sing  their  wild  notes  to  the  listening  waste. 

At  last  from  Aries  rolls  the  bounteous  sun, 
And  the  bright  Bull  receives  him.     Then  no  more 
Tli'  expansive  atmosphere  is  cramp'd  with  cold  ; 
But,  full  of  life  and  vivifying  soul, 
Lifts  the  light  clouds  sublime,  and  spreads  them  thin, 
Fleecy  and  white,  o'er  all-surrounding  heaven. 

Forth  fly  the  tepid  airs  ;  and  unconfin'd, 
Unbinding  earth,  the  moving  softness  strays. 
Joyous,  tli'  impat ifiit  husbandman  perceives 
Relenting  Nature,  and  his  lusty  steers 
Drives  from  their  stalls,  to  where  the  well-us'd  plough 
Lies  in  the  furrow,  loosen'd  from  the  frost. 
There,  unrefusing,  to  the  harness'd  yoke 
They  leml  tlu-ir  shoulder,  and  begin  their  toil, 
Cheer'd  by  the  simple  song  and  soaring  lark. 
Meanwhile  incumbent  o'er  the  shining  share 
The  master  leans,  removes  th'  obstructing  clay, 
Winds  tho  whole  work,  and  sidelong  lays  the  gl«-l>«-. 

Wliil.-  thru1  tin-  n«-i^hl('riii;,'  (it-Ms  tin-  -oiwrr  stalks. 


SPRING.  19 

With  measur'd  step  ;  and  liberal  throws  the  grain 

Into  the  faithful  bosom  of  the  ground  : 

The  harrow  follows  harsh,  and  shuts  the  scene. 

Be  gracious,  Heav'n  !  for  now  laborious  man 
Has  done  his  part.     Ye  fostering  breezes,  blow  ; 
Ye  softening  dews,  ye  tender  showers,  descend  ; 
And  temper  all,  thou  world-reviving  sun, 
Into  the  perfect  year  !  Nor  ye  who  live 
In  luxury  and  ease,  in  pomp  and  pride, 
Think  these  lost  themes  unworthy  of  your  ear  : 
Such  themes  as  these  the  rural  Maro  sung 
To  wide-imperial  Eome,  in  the  full  height 
Of  elegance  and  taste,  by  Greece  refin'd. 
In  ancient  times,  the  sacred  p'ough  employ'd 
The  kings,  and  awful  fathers  of  mankind  : 
And  some,  with  whom  compar'd  your  insect-tribes 
Are  but  the  beings  of  a  summer's  day, 
Have  held  the  scale  of  empire,  rul'd  the  storm 
Of  mighty  war  ;  then,  with  unwearied  hand, 
Disdaining  little  delicacies,  seiz'd 
The  plough,  and  greatly  independent  liv'd. 

Ye  generous  Britons,  venerate  the  plough  !\ 
And  o'er  your  hills,  and  long  withdrawing  vales, 
Let  Autumn  spread  his  treasures  to  the  sun, 
Luxuriant  and  unbounded  :  as  the  sea, 
Far  through  his  azure  turbulent  domain, 
Your  empire  owns,  and  from  a  thousand  shores 
Wafts  all  the*pomp  of  life  into  your  ports  ; 
So  with  superior  boon  may  your  rich  soil, 


20  THE  SEASONS. 

Exuberant,  Nature's  better  blessings  pour 
O'er  every  land,  the  naked  nations  clothe, 
And  be  the  exhaustless  granary  of  a  world  ! 

Nor  only  through  the  lenient  air  this  change, 
Delicious,  breathes  ;  the  penetrative  sun, 
His  force  deep-darting  to  the  dark  retreat 
Of  vegetation,  sets  the  steaming  Power 
At  large,  to  wander  o'er  the  verdant  earth, 
In  various  hues  ;  but  chiefly  thee,  gay  green  ! 
Thou  smiling  Nature's  universal  robe  ! 
United  light  and  shade  !  where  the  sight  dwells 
With  growing  strength,  and  ever  new  delight. 

From  the  moist  meadow  to  the  withered  hill, 
Led  by  the  breeze,  the  vivid  verdure  runs, 
And  swells,  and  deepens,  to  the  cherish'd  eye. 
The  hawthorn  whitens  ;  and  the  j  nicy  groves 
Put  forth  their  buds,  unfolding  by  degrees, 
Till  the  whole  leafy  forest  stands  display'd, 
In  full  luxuriance,  to  the  sighing  gales  ; 
Where  the  deer  rustle  through  the  twining  brake, 
And  the  birds  sing  conceal'd.     At  once  array'd 
In  all  the  colours  of  the  flushing  year. 
By  Nature's  swift  and  secret  working  hand 
The  garden  glows,  and  fills  the  liberal  air 
With  lavish  fragrance  ;  while  the  promis'd  fruit 
Lies  yet  a  little  embryo,  unperceiv'd, 
Within  ila  crimson  folds.     Now  from  the  town 
Huried  in  smoke,  and  sleep,  and  noisome  damps, 
Oft  li-t  me  wander  o'er  the  dewy  fields- 


I 

SPRING.  21 

Where  freshness  breathes,  and  dash  the  trembling  drops 

From  the  bent  bush,  as  through  the  verdant  maze 

Of  sweetbriar  hedges  I  pursue  my  walk  ; 

Or  taste  the  smell  of  dairy  ;  or  ascend 

Some  eminence,  Augusta,  in  thy  plains, 

And  see  the  country  far  diffus'd  around, 

One  boundless  blush,  one  white-empurpled  shower 

Of  mingled  blossoms  ;  where  the  raptur'd  eye 

Hurries  from  joy  to  joy,  and,  hid  beneath 

The  fair  profusion,  yellow  Autumn  spies  : 

If,  brushed  from  Russian  wilds,  a  cutting  gale 
Rise  not,  and  scatter  from  his  humid  wings 
The  clammy  mildew ;  or,  dry-blowing,  breathe 
Untimely  frost ;  before  whose  baleful  blast 
The  full-blown  Spring  through  all  her  foliage  shrinks 
Joyless  and  dead,  a  wide-dejected  waste. 
For  oft  engender^  by  the  hazy  north, 
Myriads  on  myriads,  insect  armies  warp 
Keen  in  the  poison'd  breeze  ;  and  wasteful  eat 
Through  buds  and  bark,  into  the  blacken'd  core, 
Their  eager  way.     A  feeble  race  !  yet  oft 
The  sacred  sons  of  vengeance  ;  on  whose  course 
Corrosive  Famine  waits,  and  kills  the  year. 
To  check  this  plague,  the  skilful  farmer  chaff 
And  blazing  straw  before  his  orchard  burns  ; 
Till,  all  involved  in  smoke,  the  latent  foe 
From  every  cranny  suffocated  falls  : 
Or  scatters  o'er  the  blooms  the  pungent  dust 
Of  pepper,  fatal  to  the  frosty  tribe  : 


22  TMK   SEASONS. 

Or,  when  th'  envenoiu'd  leaf  begins  to  curl, 
With  sprinkled  water  drowns  them  in  their  nest ; 
Nor,  while  they  pick  them  up  with  busy  bill, 
The  little  trooping  birds  unwisely  scares. 

Be  patient,  swains  ;  these  cruel-seeming  winds 
Blow  not  in  vain.     Far  hence  they  keep  repress'd 
Those  deep'uing  clouds  on  clouds,  surcharg'd  with  rain, 
That  o'er  the  vast  Atlantic  hither  borue, 
In  endless  train,  would  quench  the  summer  blaze, 
And,  cheerless,  drown  the  crude  uuripen'd  year. 

The  north-east  spends  his  rage  ;  he  now  shut  up 
Within  his  iron  cave,  th'  effusive  south 
Warms  the  wide  air,  and  o'er  the  void  of  heaven 
Breathes  the  big  clouds  with  vernal  showers  .  list  rut . 
At  first  a  dusky  wreath  they  seem  to  rise, 
Scarce  staining  ether  ;  but  by  swift  degrees, 
In  lira | is  on  heaps,  the  doubling  vapour  sails 
Along  the  loaded  sky,  and  mingling  deep 
Sits  on  th'  horizon  round  a  settled  gloom  : 
Not  such  as  wintry  storms  on  mortals  shed, 
Oppressing  life  ;  but  lovely,  gcutle,  kind, 
And  full  of  every  hope  and  every  joy, 
The  wish  of  Nature.    Gradual  sinks  t  In-  IM.  .-/>• 
Into  a  perfect  calm  ;  that  not  a  breath 
Is  heard  to  quiver  through  the  closing  woods, 
Or  rustling  turn  the  many  twinkling  leaves 
( >f  AM  pin  tall.    Th'  uncurling  floods,  diffus  d 
In  glassy  breadth,  HCCIII  through  delusive  lap.-*- 
Forgetful  of  their  course.     Tis  silt-nee  all. 


SPRING.  23 

And  pleasing  expectation.     Herds  and  flocks 

Drop  the  dry  sprig,  and  mute- imploring  eye 

The  falling  verdure.     Hush'd  in  short  suspense, 

The  plumy  people  streak  their  wings  with  oil, 

To  throw  the  lucid  moisture  trickling  off : 

And  wait  th'  approaching  sign  to  strike,  at  once, 

Into  the  general  choir.     Even  mountains,  vales, 

And  forests  seem  impatient  to  demand 

The  promis'd  sweetness.     Man  superior  walks 

Amid  the  glad  creation,  musing  praise, 

And  looking  lively  gratitude.     At  last, 

The  clouds  consign  their  treasures  to  the  fields  ; 

And,  softly  shaking  on  the  dimpled  pool 

Prelusive  drops,  let  all  their  moisture  flow, 

In  large  effusion,  o'er  the  freshen'd  world. 

The  stealing  shower  is  scarce  to  patter  heard, 

By  such  as  wander  through  the  forest  walks, 

Beneath  th'  umbrageous  multitude  of  leaves. 

But  who  can  hold  the  shade  while  Heaven  descends 

In  universal  bounty,  shedding  herbs, 

And  fruits  and  flowers,  on  Nature's  ample  lap  ? 

Swift  fancy  fiVd  anticipates  their  growth  ; 

And  while  the  milky  nutriment  distils, 

Beholds  the  kindling  country  colour  round. 

Thus  all  day  long  the  full-distended  clojjds 
Indulge  their  genial  stores,  and  well-shower'd  earth 
Is  deep  enrich'd  with  vegetable  life  ; 
Till,  in  the  western  sky,  the  downward  sun 
Looks  out  effulgent  from  amid  the  flush 


24  THE  SEASONS. 

Of  broken  clouds,  gay -shifting  to  his  beam. 

The  i-apid  radiance  instantaneous  strikes 

Th'  i  1 1  uiuiiiM  mountain,  through  the  forest,  streams, 

Shakes  on  the  floods,  and  in  a  yellow  mist , 

Far  smoking  o'er  th'  interminable  plain, 

In  twinkling  myriads  lights  the  dewy  gems. 

Moist,  bright,  and  green,  the  landscape  laughs  around. 

Full  swell  the  woods  ;  their  very  music  wakes, 

Mix'd  in  wild  concert  with  the  warbling  brooks 

Increas'd,  the  distant  bleatings  of  the  hills, 

And  hollow  lows  responsive  from  the  vales, 

Whence  blending  all  the  sweeten'd  zephyr  springs. 

Meantime,  refracted  from  yon  eastern  cloud, 

Bestriding  earth,  the  grand  ethereal  bow 

Shoots  up  immense  ;  and  every  hue  unfolds, 

In  fair  proportion  running  from  the  red, 

To  where  the  violet  fades  into  the  sky. 

Here,  awful  Newton,  the  dissolving  clouds 

Form,  fronting  on  the  sun,  thy  showery  pritmi  ; 

And  to  the  sage-instructed  eye  unfold 

The  various  twine  of  light,  by  thee  discloa'd 

From  the  white  mingling  maze.     Not  so  the  boy  ; 

lie  wondering  views  the  bright  enchantment  Win  I, 

Delightful,  o'er  the  radiant  fields,  and  runs 

To  catch  the  falling  glory  ;  but  amaz'd 

Beholds  th'  amusive  arch  before  him  fly, 

Then  vanish  quite  away.     Still  night  succ-ccds, 

A  softf  n'd  Hhade,  and  saturated  earth 

A  wait*  the  morning  beam  to  give  to  light, 


SPRING.  25 

Rais'd  through  ten  thousand  different  plastic  tubes, 
The  balmy  treasures  of  the  former  day. 

Then  spring  the  living  herbs,  profusely  wild, 
O'er  all  the  deep-green  earth,  beyond  the  power 
Of  botanists  to  number  up  their  tribes  : 
Whether  he  steals  along  the  lonely  dale, 
In  silent  search  ;  or  through  the  forest,  rank 
With  what  the  dull  incurious  weeds  account, 
Bursts  his  blind  way  ;  or  climbs  the  mountain  rock, 
Fir'd  by  the  nodding  verdure  of  its  brow. 
With  such  a  liberal  hand  has  Nature  flung 
Their  seeds  abroad,  blown  them  about  in  winds, 
Innumerous  mix'd  them  with  the  nursing  mould, 
The  moistening  current,  and  prolific  rain. 

But  who  their  virtues  can  declare  ?  who  pierce, 
With  vision  pure,  into  these  secret  stores 
Of  health,  and  life,  and  joy  ?  the  food  of  Man, 
While  yet  he  liv'd  in  innocence,  and  told 
A  length  of  golden  years  ;  unflesh'd  in  blood, 
A  stranger  to  the  savage  arts  of  life, 
Death,  rapine,  carnage,  surfeit,  and  disease  ; 
The  lord,  and  not  the  tyrant,  of  the  world. 

The  first  fresh  dawn  then  wak'd  the  gladden'd  race 
Of  uncorrupted  Man,  nor  blush'd  to  see 
The  sluggard  sleep  beneath  its  sacred  beam  ; 
For  their  light  slumbers  gently  fum'd  away  ; 
And  up  they  rose  as  vigorous  as  the  sun, 
Or  to  the  culture  of  the  willing  glebe, 
Or  to  the  cheerful  tendance  of  the  flock. 


26  THE    SBASONS. 

Meantime  the  soug  went  round  ;  and  dance  and  sport, 

Wisdom  and  friendly  talk,  successive,  stole 

Their  hours  away  :  while  in  the  rosy  vale 

Love  breath'd  his  infant  sighs,  from  anguish  free, 

And  full  replete  with  bliss  ;  save  the  sweet  pain, 

That  inly  thrilling,  but  exalts  it  more. 

Not  yet  injurious  act,  nor  surly  deed, 

Was  known  among  those  happy  sons  of  heaven  ; 

For  reason  and  benevolence  were  law. 

Harmonious  Nature  too  look'd  smiling  on. 

Clear  shone  the  skies,  cool'd  with  eternal  gales, 

And  balmy  spirit  all.     The  youthful  sun 

Shot  his  best  rays,  and  still  the  gracious  clouds 

Drop'd  fatness  down  ;  as  o'er  the  swelling  mead, 

The  herds  and  flocks,  commixing,  play'd  secure. 

This  when,  emergent  from  the  gloomy  wood, 

The  glaring  lion  saw,  his  horrid  heart 

Was  meeken'd,  and  he  join'd  his  sullen  joy. 

For  music  held  the  whole  in  perfect  peace  : 

Soft  sigh'd  the  flute  ;  the  tender  voice  was  heard, 

Warbling  the  varied  heart ;  the  woodlands  round 

Applied  their  quire  ;  and  winds  and  waters  flow'd 

In  consonance.    Such  were  those  prime  of  days. 

But  now  those  white  unblemish'd  manners,  whence 
The  fabling  poets  took  their  golden  age, 
Are  found  no  more  amid  these  iron  times. 
Tin-,.-  iliv-s  .if  life  :   ii..\v  tin-  (li>t<-mpri-'il  nun. I 
Han  lost  that  concord  of  harmonious  jMjwers, 
Which  foriiiM  tin-  soul  of  li.ippiiu  ss  ;  and  all 


SPRING.  27 

Is  off  the  poise  within  :  the  passions  all 

Have  burst  their  bounds  ;  and  reason  half  extinct, 

Or  impotent,  or  else  approving,  sees 

The  foul  disorder.     Senseless,  and  deform'd, 

Convulsive  anger  storms  at  large  ;  or  pale, 

And  silent,  settles  into  fell  revenge. 

Base  envy  withers  at  another's  joy, 

And  hates  that  excellence  it  cannot  reach. 

Desponding  fear,  of  feeble  fancies  full, 

Weak  and  unmanly,  loosens  every  power. 

Ev'n  love  itself  is  bitterness  of  soiil, 

A  pensive  anguish  pining  at  the  heart ; 

Or,  sunk  to  sordid  interest,  feels  no  more 

That  noble  wish,  that  never  cloy'd  desire, 

Which,  selfish  joy  disdaining,  seeks  alone 

To  bless  the  dearer  object  of  its  flame. 

Hope  sickens  with  extravagance  ;  and  grief, 

Of  life  impatient,  into  madness  swells  ; 

Or  in  dead  silence  wastes  the  weeping  hours. 

These,  and  a  thousand  mixt  emotions  more, 

From  ever-changing  views  of  good  and  ill, 

Form'd  infinitely  various,  vex  the  mind 

With  endless  storm  :  whence,  deeply  rankling,  grows 

The  partial  thought,  a  listless  unconcern, 

Cold,  and  averting  from  our  neighbour's  good  ; 

Then  dark  disgust,  and  hatred,  winding  wiles, 

Coward  deceit,  and  ruffian  violence  : 

At  last,  extinct  each  social  feeling,  fell 

And  joyless  inhumanity  pervades 


2s  THE  SEASONS. 

Aud  petrifies  the  heart.     Nature  disturb'd 

Is  deeni'd,  vindictive,  to  have  chang'd  her  course. 

Hence,  in  old  dusky  time,  a  deluge  came  : 
When  the  deep-cleft  disparting  orb,  that  arch'd 
The  central  waters  round,  impetuous  rush'd, 
With  universal  burst,  into  the  gulf, 
And  o'er  the  high-pil'd  hills  of  fractur'd  earth 
Wide  dash'd  the  waves,  in  undulation  vast ; 
Till,  from  the  centre  to  the  streaming  clouds, 
A  shoreless  ocean  tumbled  round  the  globe. 

The  Seasons  since  have,  with  severer  sway, 
Oppress'd  a  broken  world  :  the  Winter  keen 
Shook  forth  his  waste  of  snows  ;  and  Sumiuer  shot 
His  pestilential  heats.    Great  Spring,  before, 
Green'd  all  the  year  ;  and  fruits  and  blossoms  blush 'd, 
In  social  sweetness,  on  the  self-same  bough. 
Pure  was  the  temperate  air ;  an  even  calm 
Perpetual  reign'd,  save  what  the  zephyrs  bland 
Hreath'd  o'er  the  blue  expanse  :  for  then  nor  storms 
Were  taught  to  blow,  nor  hurricanes  to  rage  ; 
Sound  slept  the  waters  ;  no  sulphureous  glooms 
Swell'd  in  the  sky,  and  sent  the  lightning  forth  ; 
While  sickly  damps,  and  cold  autumnal  fojjs, 
Hung  not,  relaxing,  on  the  springs  of  life. 
But  now,  of  turbid  elements  the  sport, 
From  clear  to  cloudy  tost,  from  hot  to  cold, 
And  dry  to  umi.st,  with  inward-eating  change, 
Our  ill-imping  davH  are  dwindled  down  to  nought, 
Their  jMjriod  fini«h'd  ere  'tis  \vi-ll  Wgun. 


SPRING.  29 

And  yet  the  wholesome  herb  neglected  dies  ; 
Though  with  the  pure  exhilarating  soul 
Of  nutriment  and  health,  and  vital  powers, 
Beyond  the  search  of  art,  'tis  copious  blest. 
For,  with  hot  ravine  fir'd,  ensanguin'd  Man 
Is  now  become  the  lion  of  the  plain, 
And  worse.     The  wolf,  who  from  the  nightly  fold 
Fierce  drags  the  bleating  prey,  ne'er  drunk  her  milk, 
Nor  wore  her  warming  fleece  :  nor  has  the  steer, 
At  whose  strong  chest  the  deadly  tiger  hangs, 
E'er  plough'd  for  him.     They  too  are  temper'd  high, 
With  hunger  stung  and  wild  necessity, 
Nor  lodges  pity  in  their  shaggy  breast. 
But  Man,  whom  Nature  form'd  of  milder  clay, 
With  every  kind  emotion  in  his  heart, 
And  taught  alone  to  weep  ;  while  from  her  lap 
She  pours  ten  thousand  delicacies,  herbs, 
And  fruits,  as  numerous  as  the  drops  of  rain 
Or  beams  that  gave  them  birth  :  shall  he,  fair  form  ! 
Who  wears  sweet  smiles,  and  looks  erect  on  heaven, 
E'er  stoop  to  mingle  with  the  prowling  herd, 
And  dip  his  tongue  in  gore  ?  the  beast  of  prey, 
Blood  stain'd,  deserves  to  bleed  :  but  you,  ye  flocks, 
What  have  you  done  ;  ye  peaceful  people,  what, 
To  merit  death  ?  you,  who  have  given  us  milk 
In  luscious  streams,  and  lent  us  your  own  coat 
Against  the  winter's  cold  ?  and  the  plain  ox, 
That  harmless,  honest,  guileless  animal, 
In  what  has  he  offended  ?  he,  whose  toil, 


30  THB  SEASONS. 

Patient  and  ever  ready,  clothes  the  land 
With  all  the  pomp  of  harvest ;  shall  he  bleed, 
And  struggling  groan  beneath  the  cruel  hands 
Even  of  the  clown  he  feeds  ?  and  that,  perhaps, 
To  swell  the  riot  of  th"  autumnal  feast, 
Won  by  his  labour  ?  thus  the  feeling  heart 
Would  tenderly  suggest :  but  'tis  enough, 
In  this  kite  age,  adventurous,  to  have  touch'd 
Light  on  the  numbers  of  the  Saniian  sage. 
High  Heaven  forbids  the  bold  presumptuous  s! rain, 
Whose  wisest  will  has  fix'd  us  in  a  state 
That  must  not  yet  to  pure  perfection  rise. 

Now  when  the  first  foul  torrent  of  the  brooks, 
Swell'd  with  the  vernal  rains,  is  ebb'd  away, 
And,  whitening,  down  their  mossy-tinctur'd  stream 
Descends  the  billowy  foam  :  now  is  the  time, 
While  yet  the  dark-brown  water  aids  the  guile, 
To  tempt  the  trout.    The  well-dissembled  fly, 
The  rod  fine-tapering  with  elastic  spring, 
Snatch'd  from  the  hoary  steed  the  floating  line, 
And  all  thy  slender  wat'ry  stores  prepare. 
But  let  not  on  thy  hook  the  tortur'd  worm, 
Convulsive,  twist  in  agonizing  folda ; 
Which,  by  rapacious  hunger  swallow'd  deep, 
Gives,  as  you  tear  it  from  the  blrivlinjj  breast 
Of  the  weak,  helpless,  uncomplaining  wretch, 
Har*h  j»aiii  and  horror  to  the  tender  hand. 

Wht-n  with  hi*  livrly  ray  the  )x>tent  sun 
Has  pierc'd  the  stream--,  :nnl  nmsM  tin-  (inn\ 


SPRING.  31 

Then,  issuing  cheerful,  to  thy  sport  repair  ; 

Chief  should  the  western  breezes  curling  play, 

And  light  o'er  ether  bear  the  shadowy  clouds. 

High  to  their  fount,  this  day,  amid  the  hills, 

And  woodlands  warbling  round,  trace  up  the  brooks  ; 

The  next,  pursue  their  rocky-channell'd  maze, 

Down  to  the  river,  in  whose  ample  wave 

Their  little  naiads  love  to  sport  at  large. 

Just  in  the  dubious  point,  where  with  the  pool 

Is  mix'd  the  trembling  stream,  or  where  it  boils 

Around  the  stone,  or  from  the  hallow'd  bank 

Reverted  plays  in  undulating  flow, 

There  throw,  nice-judging,  the  delusive  fly  ; 

And  as  you  lead  it  round  in  artful  curve, 

With  eye  attentive  mark  the  springing  game. 

Straight  as  above  the  surface  of  the  flood 

They  wanton  rise,  or  urg'd  by  hunger  leap, 

Then  fix,  with  gentle  twitch,  the  barbed  hook  : 

Some  lightly  tossing  to  the  grassy  bank, 

A  nd  to  the  shelving  shore  slow-dragging  some, 

With  various  hand  proportion'd  to  their  force. 

If  yet  too  young,  and  easily  deceiv'd, 

A  worthless  prey  scarce  bends  your  pliant  rod, 

Him,  piteous  of  his  youth  and  the  short  space 

He  has  enjoy'd  the  vital  light  of  heaven, 

Soft  disengage,  and  back  into  the  stream 

The  speckled  captive  throw.     But  should  you  lure 

From  his  dark  haunt,  beneath  the  tangled  roots 

Of  pendent  trees,  the  monarch  of  the  brook, 


32  THE.  SEASONS. 

Behoves  you  then  to  ply  your  finest  art. 
Long  time  he,  following  cautious,  scans  the  fly  ; 
And  oft  attempts  to  seize  it,  but  as  oft 
The  dimpled  water  speaks  his  jealous  fear. 
At  last,  while  haply  o'er  the  shaded  sun 
Passes  a  cloud,  he  desperate  takes  the  death, 
With  sullen  plunge.     At  once  he  darts  along, 
Deep-struck,  and  runs  out  all  the  lengthened  line  ; 
Then  seeks  the  furthest  oozef  the  sheltering  weed, 
^The  cavern'd  bank,  his  old  secxire  abode  ; 
And  flies  aloft,  and  flounces  round  the  pool, 
Indignant  of  the  guile.     With  yielding  hand, 
That  feels  him  still,  yet  to  his  furious  course 
Gives  way,  you,  now  retiring,  following  now 
Across  the  stream,  exhaust  his  idle  rage  : 
Till  floating  broad  upon  his  breathless  side, 
And  to  his  fate  abandou'd,  to  the  shore 
You  gaily  drag  your  unresisting  prize. 

Thus  pass  the  temperate  hours  ;  but  when  the  sun 
Shakes  from  his  noonday  throne  the  scattering  clouds, 
Even  shooting  listless  languor  through  the  deeps  ; 
Then  seek  the  bank  where  flowering  elders  crowd, 
Where  scatter'd  wild  the  lily  of  the  vale 
Ite  balmy  essence  breathes,  where  cowslips  hang 
The  dewy  head,  where  purple  violets  lurk, 
With  all  the  lowly  children  of  the  shade  : 
Or  lie  rc'clin'd  beneath  yon  spreading  ash, 
Hung  o'er  the  steep;  whence,  borne  on  liquid  wing, 
The  wnindiiiir  i-ulvcr  slutotfl  ;  or  whrrr  tin-  hawk. 


SPRING.  33 

High,  in  the  beetling  cliff,  his  eyry  builds. 

There  let  the  classic  page  thy  fancy  lead 

Through  rural  scenes  ;  such  as  the  Mantuau  swain, 

Paints  in  the  matchless  harmony  of  song. 

Or  catch  thyself  the  landscape,  gliding  swift 

Athwart  imagination's  vivid  eye  : 

Or  by  the  vocal  woods  and  waters  lull'd, 

And  lost  in  lonely  musing,  in  the  dream. 

Confus'd,  of  careless  solitude,  where  mix 

Ten  thousand  wandering  images  of  things, 

Soothe  every  gust  of  passion  into  peace  ; 

All  but  the  swellings  of  the  soften'd  heart, 

That  waken,  not  disturb,  the  tranquil  mind. 

Behold  yon  breathing  prospect  bids  the  Muse 
Throw  all  her  beauty  forth.     But  who  can  paint 
Like  Nature  ?     Can  imagination  boast,  1 
Amid  its  gay  creation,  hues  like  hers  ?   \ 
Or  can  it  mix  them  with  that  matchless  skill, 
And  lose  them  in  each  other,  as  appears 
In  every  bud  that  blows  ?     If  fancy  then 
Unequal  fails  beneath  the  pleasing  task, 

Ah.  what  shall  language  do  ?    Ah,  where  find  words 

~  '     *•— ••— _^ _ 
Ting'd  with  so  many  colours ;  and  whose  power, 

To  life  approaching,  may  perfume  my  lays 
With  that  fine  oil,  those  aromatic  gales, 
That  inexhaustive  flow  continual  round  ? 

Yet,  though  successless,  will  the  toil  delight. 
Come  then,  ye  virgins  and  ye  youths,  whose  hearts 
Have  felt  the  raptures  of  refining  love  ; 


34  THE   SEASONS. 

And  thou,  Amanda,  come,  pride  of  my  song  ! 
Form'd  by  the  Graces,  loveliness  itself ! 
Come  with  those  downcast  eyes,  sedate  and  sweet, 
Those  looks  demure,  that  deeply  pierce  the  soul 
Where,  with  the  light  of  thoughtful  reason  mix'd, 
Shines  lively  fancy  and  the  feeling  heart : 
Oh,  come  !  and  while  the  rosy -footed  May 
Steals  blushing  on,  together  let  us  tread 
The  morning  dews,  and  gather  in  their  prime 
Fresh-blooming  flowers,  to  grace  thy  braided  hair, 
And  thy  lov'd  bosom  that  improves  their  sweets. 
_See,  where  the  winding  vale  its  lavish  stores, 
Irriguous,  spreads.     See,  how  the  lily  drinks 
The  latent  rill,  scarce  oozing  through  the  grass, 
Of  growth  luxuriant ;  or  the  humid  bank, 
In  fair  profusion,  decks.     Long  let  us  walk, 
Where  the  breeze  blows  from  yon  extended  field 
Of  blossom'd  beans.    Arabia  cannot  boast 
A  fuller  gale  of  joy,  than,  liberal,  thence 
Breathes  through  the  sense,  and  takes  the  ravish'd  soul. 
Nor  is  the  mead  unworthy  of  thy  foot, 
Full  of  fresh  verdure,  and  unnumber'd  flowers, 
The  negligence  of  Nature,  wide,  and  wild  ; 
Where,  undisguis'd  by  mimic  Art,  she  spreads 
Unbounded  beauty  to  the  roving  eye. 
Here  their  delicious  task  the  fervent  bees, 
Ik  swarming  millions,  tend  :  around,  athwart, 
Through  the  soft  air,  the  busy  nations  fly, 
Cling  to  the  bud,  and,  with  inserted  tube, 


SPRING.  35 

Suck  its  pure  essence,  its  ethereal  soul ; 
And  oft,  with  bolder  wing,  they  soaring  dare 
The  purple  heath,  or  where  the  wild  thyme  grows, 
And  yellow  load  them  with  the  luscious  spoil. 

At  length  the  finisli'd  garden  to  the  view 
Its  vistas  opens,  and  its  alleys  green. 
Snatch'd  through  the  verdant  maze,  the  hurried  eye 
Distracted  wanders ;  now  the  i>owery  walk 
Of  covert  close,  where  scarce  a  speck  of  day 
Falls  on  the  lengthen'd  gloom,  protracted  sweeps  : 
Now  meets  the  bending  sky  ;  the  river  now 
Dimpling  along,  the  breezy  ruffled  lake, 
The  forest  darkening  round,  the  glittering  spire 
Th'  ethereal  mountain,  and  the  distant  main. 
But  why  so  far  excursive  ?  when  at  hand, 
Along  these  blushing  borders,  bright  with  dew, 
And  in  yon  mingled  wilderness  of  flowers, 
Fair-handed  Spring  unbosoms  every  grace  ; 
Throws  out  the  snowdrop,  and  the  crocus  first ; 
The  daisy,  primrose,  violet  darkly  blue, 
And  polyanthus  of  unnumber'd  dyes ; 
The  yellow  wall-flower  stain'd  with  iron  brown  ; 
And  lavish  stock  that  scents  the  garden  round  : 
From  the  soft  wing  of  vernal  breezes  shed, 
Anemonies ;  auriculas,  enrich'd 
With  shining  meal  o'er  all  their  velvet  leaves ; 
And  full  ranunculas,  of  glowing  red. 
Then  comes  the  tulip-race,  where  Beauty  plays 
Her  idle  freaks  ;  from  family  diffus'd 


36  THK  SKA80NS. 

To  family,  as  flies  the  father-dust, 
The  varied  colours  run  ;  and,  while  they  break 
On  the  charm'd  eye,  th'  exulting  florist  marks, 
With  secret  pride,  the  wonders  of  his  hand. 
No  gradual  bloom  is  wanting ;  from  the  bud, 
First-born  of  Spring,  to  Summer's  musky  tribes  : 
Nor  hyacinths,  of  purest  virgin  white, 
Low-bent,  and  blushing  inward  ;  nor  jonquilles, 
Of  potent  fragrance  ;  nor  narcissus  fair, 
As  o'er  the  fabled  fountain  hanging  still  ; 
Nor  broad  carnations,  nor  gay-spotted  pinks  ; 
Nor  shower'd  from  every  bush,  the  damask-rose 
Infinite  numbers,  delicacies,  smells, 
With  hues  on  hues  expression  cannot  paint, 
The  breath  of  Nature,  and  her  endless  bloom. 

Hail,  Source  of  Being  !  Universal  Soul 
Of  heaven  and  earth  !  Essential  Presence,  hail ! 
To  Thee  I  bend  the  knee  ;  to  Thee  my  thoughts, 
Continual,  climb  ;  who,  with  a  master-hand, 
Hast  the  great  whole  into  perfection  touch'd, 
By  Thee  the  various  vegetative  tribes, 
Wrapt  in  a  filmy  net,  and  clad  with  leaves, 
Draw  the  live  ether,  and  imbibe  the  dew  : 
By  Tin -i-  dispos'd  into  congenial  soils, 
Stands  each  attractive  plant,  and  sucks,  and  swells 
The  juicy  tide  ;  a  twining  mass  of  tubes. 
At  Thy  command  the  vernal  sun  awakes 
The  torpid  sap,  detruded  to  the  root 
By  wintry  winds  ;  that  now  in  fluent  dance, 


SPRING.  37 

And  lively  fermentation,  mounting,  spreads 
All  this  innumerous-coloured  scene  of  things. 

As  rising  from  the  vegetable  world 
My  theme  ascends,  with  equal  wing  ascend, 
My  panting  Muse  ;  and  hark,  how  loud  the  woods 
Invite  you  forth  in  all  your  gayest  trim. 
Lend  me  your  song,  ye  nightingales  !  oh,  pour 
The  mazy-running  soul  of  melody 
Into  my  varied  verse  !  while  I  dedxice, 
From  the  first  note  the  hollow  cuckoo  sings, 
The  symphony  of  Spring,  and  touch  a  theme 
Unknown  to  fame, — the  Passion  of  the  Groves. 

'When  first  the  soul  of  love  is  sent  abroad, 
Warm  through  the  vital  air,  and  on  the  heart 
Harmonious  seizes,  the  gay  troops  begin, 
In  gallant  thought,  to  plume  the  painted  wing  ; 
And  try  again  the  long-forgotten  strain, 
At  first  faint-warbled.     But  no  sooner  grows 
The  soft  infusion  prevalent,  and  wide, 
Than,  all  alive,  at  once  their  joy  o'erflows 
In  music  unconfin'd.     Up-springs  the  lark, 
Shrill-voic'd,  and  loud,  the  messenger  of  morn  ; 
Ere  yet  the  shadows  fly,  he  mounted  sings 
Amid  the  dawning  clouds,  and  from  their  haunts 
Calls  up  the  tuneful  nations.     Every  copse 
Deep-tangled,  tree  irregular,  and  bush 
Bending  with  dewy  moisture,  o'er  the  heads 
Of  the  coy  quiristers  that  lodge  within, 
Are  prodigal  of  harmony.     The  thrush 


38  THE   SEASONS. 

And  woodlark,  o'er  the  kind -contending  throng 
Superior  heard,  run  through  the  sweetest  length 
Of  notes  ;  when  listening  Philomela  deigns 
To  let  them  joy,  and  purposes,  in  thought 
Elate,  to  make  her  night  excel  their  day. 
The  blackbird  whistles  from  the  thorny  brake  ; 
The  mellow- bullfinch  answers  from  the  grove  : 
Nor  are  the  linnets,  o'er  the  flowering  furze 
Pour'd  out  profusely,  silent.    Join'd  to  these 
Innumerous  songsters,  in  the  freshening  shade 
Of  new-sprung  leaves,  their  modulations  mix 
Mellifluous.    The  jay,  the  rook,  the  daw, 
And  each  harsh  pipe,  discordant  heard  alone, 
Aid  the  full  concert :  while  the  stock-dove  breathes 
A  melancholy  murmur  through  the  whole. 

Tis  love  creates  their  melody,  and  all 
This  waste  of  music  is  the  voice  of  love  ; 
Tli  at  even  to  birds,  and  beasts,  the  tender  arts 
'  Of  pleasing  teaches.     Hence  the  glossy  kind 
Try  every  winning  way  inventive  love 
Can  dictate,  and  in  courtship  to  their  mates 
Pour  forth  their  little  souls.     First,  wide  around, 
With  distant  awe,  in  airy  rings  they  rove, 
Endeavouring  by  a  thousand  tricks  to  catch 
The  cunning,  conscious,  half-averted  glance 
Of  the  regardless  charmer.     Should  she  seem 
Softening  the  least  approvance  to  bestow, 
Their  colours  burnish,  and  by  hope  inspir'd, 
They  brisk  advance  ;  then,  on  a  sudden  struck, 


SPRING.  39 

Eetire  disordered  ;  then  again  approach  ; 
In  fond  rotation  spread  the  spotted  wing, 
And  shiver  every  feather  with  desire. 

Connubial  leagues  agreed,  to  the  deepjwoods 
They  haste  away,  all  as  their  fancy  leads, 
Pleasure,  or  food,  or  secret  safety  prompts  ; 
That  Nature's  great  command  may  be  obey'd  : 
Nor  all  the  sweet  sensations  they  perceive 
Indulg'd  in  vain.     Some  to  the  holly-hedge 
Nestling  repair,  and  to  the  thicket  some  ; 
Some  to  the  rude  protection  of  the  thorn 
Commit  their  feeble  offspring.    The  cleft  tree 
Offers  its  kind  concealment  to  a  few, 
Their  food  its  insects,  and  its  moss  their  nests. 
Others  apart  far  in  the  grassy  dale, 
Or  roughening  waste,  their  humble  texture  weave. 
But  most  in  woodland  solitudes  delight, 
In  unfrequented  glooms,  or  shaggy  banks, 
Steep,  and  divided  by  a  babbling  brook, 
Whose  murmurs  soothe  them  all  the  live-long  day, 
When  by  kind  duty  fix'd.     Among  the  roots 
Of  hazel,  pendent  o'er  the  plaintive  stream, 
They  frame  the  first  foundation  of  their  domes  ; 
Dry  sprigs  of  trees,  in  artful  fabric  laid, 
And  bound  with  clay  together.     Now  'tis  nought 
But  restless  hurry  through  the  busy  air, 
Beat  by  unnumber'd  wings.     The  swallow  sweeps 
The  slimy  pool,  to  build  his  hanging  house 
Intent.     And  often,  from  the  careless  back 


40  THK  SEASONS. 

Of  herds  and  flocks,  a  thousand  tugging  bills 
Pluck  hair  and  wool ;  and  oft,  when  unobserv'd, 
Steal  from  the  barn  a  straw  :  till  soft  and  warm, 
Clean  and  complete,  their  habitation  grows. 

As  thus  the  patient  dam  assiduous  sits, 
Not  to  be  tempted  from  her  tender  task, 
Or  by  sharp  hunger,  or  by  smooth  delight, 
Though  the  whole  loosen'd  Spring  around  her  blows, 
Her  sympathizing  lover  takes  his  stand 
High  on  th'  opponent  bank,  and  ceaseless  sings 
The  tedious  time  away  ;  or  else  supplies 
Her  place  a  moment,  while  she  sudden  flits 
To  pick  the  scanty  meal.    Th'  appointed  time 
With  pious  toil  fulfill'd,  the  callow  young, 
Warm'd  and  expanded  into  perfect  life, 
Their  brittle  bondage  break,  and  come  to  light, 
A  helpless  family,  demanding  food 
With  constant  clamour  :  O  what  passions  then, 
What  melting  sentiments  of  kindly  care, 
On  the  new  parents  seize  !     Away  they  fly 
Affectionate,  and  undesiriug  bear 
The  most  delicious  morsel  to  their  young  ; 
Which  equally  distributed,  again 
The  search  begins.     Ev'n  so  a  gentle  pair, 
By  fortune  sunk,  but  form'd  of  generous  mould, 
And  charm'd  with  cares  beyond  the  vulgar  breast 
In  some  lone  cot  amid  the  distant  woods, 
Sustain'd  alone  by  providential  Heaven, 
oft,  as  they  wec|»in«  c\c  their  infant  train, 


SPRING.  41 

Check  their  own  appetites,  and  give  them  all. 

Nor  toil  alone  they  acorn :  exalting  love, 
By  the  great  Father  of  the  Spring  inspir'd, 
Gives  instant  courage  to  the  fearful  race, 
And  to  the  simple  art.     With  stealthy  wing, 
Should  some  rude  foot  their  woody  haunts  molest, 
Amid  a  neighbouring  bush  they  silent  drop, 
And  whirring  thence,  as  if  alarm'd,  deceive 
Th'  unfeeling  school-boy.     Hence,  around  the  head 
Of  wandering  swain,  the  white-wing'd  plover  wheels 
Her  sounding  flight,  and  then  directly  on 
In  long  excursion  skims  the  level  lawn, 
To  tempt  him  from  her  nest.     The  wild-duck,  hence, 
p'er  the  rough  moss,  and  o'er  the  trackless  waste 
JThe  heath-hen  flutters,  pious  fraud  !  to  lead 
(The  hot  pursuing  spaniel  far  astray. 

Be  not  the  Muse  asham'd,  here  to  bemoan 
Her  brothers  of  the  grove,  by  tyrant  Man 
Inhuman  caught,  and  in  the  narrow  cage 
From  liberty  confin'd,  and  boundless  air. 
Dull  are  the  pretty  slaves,  their  plumage  dull, 
Bagged,  and  all  its  brightening  lustre  lost ; 
Nor  is  that  sprightly  wildness  in  their  notes, 
Which,  clear  and  vigorous,  warbles  from  the  beech. 
O  then,  ye  friends  of  love  and  love-taught  song, 
Spare  the  soft  tribes,  this  barbarous  art  forbear  ; 
If  on  your  bosom  innocence  can  win, 
Music  engage,  or  piety  persuade. 

But  let  not  chief  the  nightingale  lament 


42  1  UK   SEASONS. 

Her  ruin'd  care,  too  delicately  f  rara'd 

To  brook  the  harsh  confinement  of  the  cage. 

Oft  when,  returning  with  her  loaded  bill, 

Tli'  astonish'd  mother  finds  a  vacant  nest, 

By  the  hard  hand  of  unrelenting  clowns 

Bobb'd,  to  the  ground  the  vain  provision  falls  ; 

Her  pinions  ruffle,  and  low-drooping  scarce 

Can  bear  the  mourner  to  the  poplar  shade  ; 

Where,  all  abaudon'd  to  despair,  she  sings 

Her  sorrows  through  the  night ;  and,  on  the  bough, 

Sole-sitting,  still  at  every  dying  fall 

Takes  up  again  her  lamentable  strain 

Of  winding  woe  ;  till,  wide  around,  the  woods 

Sigh  to  her  song,  and  with  her  wail  resound. 

But  now  the  feather'd  youth  their  former  bounds, 
Ardent,  disdain  ;  and,  weighing  oft  their  wings, 
Demand  the  free  possession  of  the  sky  : 
This  one  glad  office  more,  and  then  dissolves 
Parental  love  at  once,  now  needless  grown. 
Unlavish  Wisdom  never  works  in  vain. 
Tis  on  some  evening,  sunny,  grateful,  mild, 
When  nought  but  balm  is  breathing  through  the  woods, 
With  yellow  lustre  bright,  that  the  new  tribes 
Visit  the  spacious  heavens,  and  look  abroad 
On  Nature's  common,  far  as  they  can  see, 
Or  wing,  their  range  and  pasture.     O'er  the  boughs 
Dancing  about,  still  at  the  giddy  verge 
Their  resolution  fails  ;  their  pinions  still, 
In  loose  libration  stretch'd,  to  trust  the  void 


SPRING.  43 

Trembling  refuse  :  till  down  before  them  fly 
The  parent  guides,  and  chide,  exhort,  command, 
Or  push  them  off.     The  surging  air  receives 
Its  plumy  burden  ;  and  their  self-taught  wings 
Winnow  the  waving  element.     On  ground 
Alighted,  bolder  up  again  they  lead, 
Further  and  further  on,  the  lengthening  flight ; 
Till  vanish'd  every  fear,  and  every  power 
Bous'd  into  life  and  action,  light  in  air 
Th'  acquitted  parents  see  their  soaring  race, 
And  once  rejoicing  never  know  them  more. 

High  from  the  summit  of  a  craggy  cliff, 
Hung  o'er  the  deep,  such  as  amazing  frowns 
On  utmost  Kilda's*  shore,  whose  lonely  race 
Resign  the  setting  sun  to  Indian  worlds, 
The  royal  eagle  draws  his  vigorous  young, 
Strong  pounc'd,  and  ardent  with  paternal  fire. 
Now  fit  to  raise  a  kingdom  of  their  own, 
He  drives  them  from  his  fort,  the  towering  seat, 
For  ages,  of  his  empire ;  which,  in  peace, 
Unstain'd  he  holds,  while  many  a  league  to  sea 
He  wings  his  course,  and  preys  in  distant  isles, 

Should  I  my  steps  turn  to  the  rural  seat, 
Whose  lofty  elms,  and  venerable  oaks, 
Invite  the  rook,  who  high  amid  the  boughs, 
In  early  Spring,  his  airy  city  builds, 
And  ceaseless  caws  amusive  ;  there,  well-pleas'd, 
I  iniyht  the  various  polity  survey 

*  The  furthest  of  the  western  isles  of  Scotland. 


44  THE   SEASONS. 

Of  the  mixt  household  kind.     The  careful  hen 

Calls  all  her  chirping  family  around, 

Fed  and  defended  by  the  fearless  cock  ; 

Whose  breast  with  ardour  flames,  as  on  he  walks, 

Graceful,  and  crows  defiance.     In  the  pond, 

The  finely-checker'd  duck,  before  her  train, 

Rows  garrulous.     The  stately -sailing  swan 

Gives  out  his  snowy  plumage  to  the  gale  ; 

And,  arching  proud  his  neck,  with  oary  feet 

Bears  forward  fierce,  and  guards  his  osier-isle, 

Protective  of  his  young.     The  turkey  nigh, 

Loud-threatening,  reddens  ;  while  the  peacock  spreads 

His  every-colour'd  glory  to  the  sun, 

And  swims  in  radiant  majesty  along. 

O'er  the  whole  homely  scene,  the  cooing  dove 

Flies  thick  in  amorous  chase,  and  wanton  rolls 

The  glancing  eye,  and  turns  the  changeful  neck. 

While  thus  the  gentle  tenants  of  the  shade 
Indulge  their  purer  loves,  the  rougher  world, 
Of  brutes,  below,  rush  furious  into  flame, 
And  fierce  desire.     Through  all  his  lusty  veins 
The  bull,  deep-scorch'd,  the  raging  passion  feels. 
Of  pasture  sick,  and  negligent  of  food, 
Scarce  seen,  he  wades  among  the  yellow  broom, 
While  o'er  his  ample  sides  the  rambling  sprays 
Luxuriant  shoot ;  or  through  the  mazy  wood 
Dejected  wanders,  nor  th'  enticing  bud 
Crops,  though  it  presses  on  his  careless  sense. 
And  oft,  in  jealous  mad'ning  fancy  wrapt, 


SPRING.  45 

He  seeks  the  fight ;  and,  idly-butting,  feigns 

His  rival  gor'd  in  every  knotty  trunk. 

Him  should  he  meet,  the  bellowing  war  begins  : 

Their  eyes  flash  fury  ;  to  the  hollow'd  earth, 

Whence  the  sand  flies,  they  mutter  bloody  deeds, 

And  groaning  deep,  CH5  impetuous  battle  mix  : 

While  the  fair  heifer,  balmy-breathing,  near, 

Stands  kindling  up  their  rage.     The  trembling  steed, 

With  this  hot  impulse  seiz'd  in  every  nerve, 

Nor  heeds  the  rein,  nor  hears  the  sounding  thong  ; 

Blows  are  not  felt ;  but  tossing  high  his  head, 

And  by  the  well-known  joy  to  distant  plains 

Attracted  strong,  all  wild  he  bursts  away  ; 

O'er  rocks,  and  woods,  and  craggy  mountains  flies  ; 

And,  neighing,  on  th'  aerial  summit  takes 

Th'  exciting  gale  ;  then,  steep-descending,  cleaves 

The  headlong  torrents  foaming  down  the  hills, 

Ev'n  where  the  madness  of  the  straiten'd  stream 

Tunis  in  black  eddies  round  :  such  is  the  force 

With  which  his  frantic  heart  and  sinews  swell. 

Nor  undelighted  by  the  boundless  Spring 
Are  the  broad  monsters  of  the  foaming  deep  : 
From  the  deep  ooze  and  gelid  cavern  rous'd, 
They  flounce  and  tumble  in  unwieldy  joy. 
Dire  were  the  strain,  and  dissonant,  to  sing 
The  cruel  raptures  of  the  savage  kind  : 
How  by  this  flame  their  native  wrath  sublim'd, 
They  roam,  amid  the  fury  of  their  heart, 
The  far-resounding  waste  in  fiercer  bands, 


46  THE   SEASON'S. 

And  growl  their  horrid  loves.     But  this  the  theme 

I  aing,  euraptur'd,  to  the  British. ~Eair, 

Forbids,  and  leads  me  to  the  mountain  brow, 

Where  sits  the  shepherd  on  the  grassy  turf, 

Inhaling,  healthful,  the  descending  sun. 

Around  him  feeds  his  many-bleating  flock, 

Of  various  cadence  ;  and  his  sportive  lambs, 

This  way  and  that  convolv'd,  in  friskful  glee, 

Their  frolics  play.    And  now  the  sprightly  race 

Invites  them  forth  ;  when  swift,  the  signal  given, 

They  start  away,  and  sweep  the  massy  mound 

That  runs  around  the  hill ;  the  rampart  once 

Of  iron  war  in  ancient  barbarous  times, 

When  disunited  Britain  ever  bled, 

Lost  in  eternal  broil :  ere  yet  she  grew 

To  this  deep-laid  indissoluble  state, 

Where  Wealth  and  Commerce  lift  their  golden  heads  ; 

And  o'er  our  labours,  Liberty  and  Law, 

Impartial,  watch  ;  the  wonder  of  a  world  ! 

What  is  this  mighty  breath,  ye  sages,  say, 
That  in  a  powerful  language,  felt,  not  heard, 
Instructs  the  fowls  of  heaven ;  and  through  their  breast 
These  arts  of  love  diffuses  ?    What,  but  GodT 
Inspiring  God  !  who,  boundless  Spirit  all, 
And  unremitting  Energy,  pervades, 
Adjusts,  sustains,  and  agitates  the  whole. 
He  ceaseless  works  alone  ;  and  yet  alone 
Seems  not  to  work  with  such  perfection  frara'd 
Is  this  complex  stupendous  scheme  of  things. 


SPRING.  47 

But,  though  conceal'd  to  every  purer  eye 
Th'  informing  Author  in  His  works  appears  : 
Chief,  lovely  Spring,  in  thee,  and  thy  soft  scenes, 
The  Smiling  God  is  seen  ;  while  water,  earth, 
And  air  attest  His  bounty  ;  which  exalts 
The  brute  creation  to  this  finer  thought, 
And  annual  melts  their  undesigning  hearts 
Profusely  thus  in  tenderness  and  joy. 

Still  let  my  song  a  nobler  note  assume, 
And  sing  th'  infusive  force  of  Spring  on  man  ; 
When  heaven  and  earth,  as  if  contending,  vie 
To  raise  his  being,  and  serene  his  soul. 
Can  he  forbear  to  join  the  general  smile 
Of  Nature  ?    Can  fierce  passions  vex  his  breast. 
While  every  gale  is  peace,  and  every  grove 
Is  melody  ?  hence  !  from  the  bounteous  walks 
Of  flowing  Spring,  ye  sordid  sons  of  earth, 
Hard,  and  unfeeling  of  another's  woe  ; 
Or  only  lavish  to  yourselves  ;  away  ! 
But  come,  ye  generous  minds,  in  whose  wide  thought, 
Of  all  his  works,  creative  Bounty  burns 
With  warmest  beam ;  and  on  your  open  front 
And  liberal  eye,  sits,  from  his  dark  retreat 
Inviting  modest  Want.     Nor,  till  invok'd, 
Can  restless  goodness  wait ;  your  active  search 
Leaves  no  cold  wintry  corner  unexplor'd  ; 
Like  silent-working  Heaven,  surprising  oft 
The  lonely  heart  with  unexpected  good. 
For  you  the  roving  spirit  of  the  wind 


48  THE  SEASONS. 

Blows  Spring  abroad  ;  for  you  the  teeming  clouds 
Descend  in  gladsome  plenty  o'er  the  world  ; 
And  the  sun  sheds  his  kindest  rays  for  you, 
Ye  flower  of  human  race  !  in  these  green  days, 
Reviving  Sickness  lifts  her  languid  head  ; 
Life  flows  afresh  ;  and  young-ey'd  Health  exalts 
The  whole  creation  round.    Contentment  walks 
The  sunny  glade,  and  feels  an  inward  bliss 
Spring  o'er  his  mind,  beyond  the  power  of  kings 
To  purchase.     Pure  serenity  apace 
Induces  thought,  and  contemplation  still. 
By  swift  degrees  the  love  of  Nature  works, 
And  warms  the  bosom  ;  till  at  last  sublim'd 
To  rapture,  and  enthusiastic  heat, 
We  feel  the  present  Deity,  and  taste 
The  joy  of  GOD  to  see  a  happy  world  ! 

These  are  the  sacred  feelings  of  thy  heart, 
Thy  heart  inform'd  by  reason's  purer  ray, 
0  Lyttelton,  the  friend  !  thy  passions  thus 
And  meditations  vary,  as  at  large, 
Courting  the  Muse,  through  Hagley  Park  thou  stray 'st; 
Thy  British  Tempd  !  there  along  the  dale, 
With  woods  o'erhung,  and  shagg'd  with  mossy  rocks, 
Whence  on  each  hand  the  gushing  waters  play, 
And  down  the  rough  cascade  white-dashing  fall, 
Or  gleam  in  leugthen'd  vista  through  the  trees, 
Y'.u  silent  steal ;  or  sit  beneath  the  shade 
Of  solemn  oaks,  that  tuft  the  swelling  mounts 
Thrown  graceful  round  by  Nature's  careless  hand, 


And  pensive  listen  to  the  various  voice 
Of  rural  peace  :  the  herds,  the  flocks,  the  birds, 
The  hollow- whispering  breeze,  the  plaint  of  rills, 
That,  purling  down  amid  the  twisted  roots 
Which  creep  around,  their  dewy  murmurs  shake 
On  the  sooth'd  ear.     From  these  abstracted  oft, 
You  wander  through  the  philosophic  world  ; 
jWhere  in  bright  train  continual  wonders  rise, 
|Or  to  the  curious  or  the  pious  eye. 
And  oft,  conducted  by  historic  truth, 
You  tread  the  long  extent  of  backward  time  : 
Planning,  with  warm  benevolence  of  mind, 
And  honest  zeal,  unwarp'd  by  party  rage, 
Britannia's  weal ;  howjErom  the 
To  raise  her  virtue,  and  her  arts  revive. 
Or,  tunun^th^LcaJlxy-KifiW,  t 
The  Muses  charm  :  while,  with  sure  taste  refin'd, 
You  draw  th'  inspiring  breath  of  ancient  song  ; 
Till  nobly  rises,  emulous,  thy  own. 
Perhaps  thy  lov'd  Lucinda  shares  thy  walk, 
With  soul  to  thine  attun'd.     Then  Nature  all 
Wears  to  the  lover's  eye  a  look  of  love  ; 
And  all  the  tumult  of  a  guilty  world, 
Tost  by  ungenerous  passions,  sinks  away. 
The  tender  heart  is  animated  peace  ; 
And  as  it  pours  its  copious  treasures  forth, 
In  varied  converse,  softening  every  theme, 
You,  frequent-pausing,  turn,  and  from  her  eyes, 
Where  rneeken'd  sense,  and  amiable  grace, 


50  THE    SEASONS. 

Aud  lively  sweetness,  dwell,  euraptur'd,  drink 

That  nameless  spirit  of  ethereal  joy. 

Unutterable  happiness  !  which  love 

Alone  bestows,  and  ou  a  favour'd  few. 

Meantime  you  gain  the  height,  from  whose  fair  brow 

The  bursting  prospect  spreads  immense  around  : 

And  snatch'd  o'er  hill  and  dale,  and  wood  and  lawn, 

And  verdant  field,  and  darkening  heath  between, 

And  villages  embosom'd  soft  in  trees, 

And  spiry  towns  by  surging  columns  mark'd 

Of  household  smoke,  your  eye  excursive  roams  : 

Wide-stretching  from  the  hall,  in  whose  kind  haunt 

The  Hospitable  Genius  lingers  still, 

To  where  the  broken  landscape,  by  degrees, 

Ascending,  roughens  into  rigid  hills  ; 

O'er  which  the  Cambrian  mountains,  like  far  clouds 

That  skirt  the  blue  horizon,  dusky  rise. 

Flush'd  by  the  spirit  of  the  genial  year, 
Now  from  the  virgin's  cheek  a  fresher  bloom 
Shoots,  less  and  leas,  the  live  carnation  round  ; 
Her  lips  blush  deeper  sweets  ;  she  breathes  of  youth  ; 
The  shining  moisture  swells  into  her  eyes, 
In  brighter  flow  ;  her  wishing  bosom  heaves, 
With  palpitations  wild  ;  kind  tumults  seize 
Her  veins,  and  all  her  yielding  soul  is  love. 
From  the  keen  gaze  her  lover  turns  away, 
Full  of  the  dear  ecstatic  power,  and  sick 
With  sighing  languishinent.     Ah  then,  ye  fair  ! 
He  greatly  cautious  of  your  sliding  hearts  : 


SPRING.  51 

Dare  not  th'  infectious  sigh  ;  the  pleading  look. 
Down-cast,  and  low,  in  meek  submission  drest, 
But  full  of  guile.     Let  not  the  fervent  tongue, 
Prompt  to  deceive,  with  adulation  smooth, 
Gain  on  your  purpos'd  will.     Nor  in  the  bower, 
Where  woodbines  flaunt,  and  roses  shed  a  couch, 
While  Evening  draws  her  crimson  curtains  round, 
Trust  your  soft  minutes  with  betraying  Man. 

And  let  th'  aspiring  youth  beware  of  love, 
Of  the  smooth  glance  beware  ;  for  'tis  too  late, 
When  on  his  heart  the  torrent-softness  pours ; 
Then  wisdom  prostrate  lies,  and  fading  fame 
Dissolves  in  air  away  ;  while  the  fond  soul, 
Wrapt  in  gay  visions  of  unreal  bliss, 
Still  paints  th'  illusive  form  ;  the  kindling  grace  ; 
Th'  enticing  smile  ;  the  modest  seeming  eye, 
Beneath  whose  beauteous  beams,  belying  heaven, 
Lurk  searchless  cunning,  cruelty,  and  death  : 
And  still  false-warbling  in  his  cheated  ear, 
Her  siren- voice,  enchalltllig1,  dl'Aws  him  on 
To  guileful  shores,  and  meads  of  fatal  joy. 

Ev'n  present  in  the  very  lap  of  love 
Inglorious  laid  ;  while  music  flows  around, 
Perfumes,  and  oils,  and  wine,  and  wanton  hours ; 
Amid  the  roses  fierce  Repentance  rears 
Her  snaky  crest :  a  quick-returning  pang 
Shoots  through  the  conscious  heart ;  where  honour  still 
And  great  design,  against  th'  oppressive  load 
Of  luxury,  by  tits,  impatient  heave. 


52  THE  SEASONS. 

But  absent,  what  fantastic  woes,  arous'd, 
Rage  in  each  thought,  by  restless  musing  fed, 
C'hill  the  warm  cheek,  and  blast  the  bloom  of  life  ! 
Neglected  fortune  flies  ;  and  sliding  swift, 
Proue  into  ruin,  fall  his  scorn'd  affairs. 
Tia  nought  but  gloom  around  :  the  darken'd  sun 
Loses  his  light.    The  rosy-bosom'd  Spring 
To  weeping  Fancy  pines  :  and  yon  bright  arch, 
Contracted,  bends  into  a  dusky  vault 
All  Nature  fades  extinct ;  and  she  alone 
Heard,  felt,  and  seen,  Assesses  every  thought, 
Fills  every  sense,  and  pants  in  every  vein. 
Books  are  but  formal  dulness,  tedious  friends  ; 
And  sad  amid  the  social  band  he  sits, 
Lonely,  and  unattentive.     From  his  tongue 
Th*  unfinish'd  period  falls  :  while,  borne  away 
On  swelling  thought,  his  wafted  spirit  flies 
To  the  vain  bosom  of  his  distant  fair ; 
And  leaves  the  semblance  of  a  lover,  fix'd 
In  melancholy  site,  with  head  declin'd, 
And  love-dejected  eyes.     Sudden  he  starts, 
Shook  from  his  tender  trance,  and  restless  runs 
To  glimmering  shades,  and  sympathetic  glooms  ; 
Where  the  dun  umbrage  o'er  the  falling  stream, 
Romantic,  hangs ;  there  through  the  pensive  dusk 
BtUtyl,  i"  heart-thrilling  meditation  lost, 
Indulging  all  to  love  :  or  on  the  bank 
Thrown,  amid  drooping  lilien,  awelU  the  breeze 
With  nigh*  munuing,  and  the  brook  with  team. 


SPRING.  53 

Thus  in  soft  anguish  he  consumes  the  day, 
Nor  quits  his  deep  retirement,  till  the  Moon 
Peeps  through  the  chambers  of  the  fleecy  east, 
Enlightened  by  degrees,  and  in  her  train 
Leads  on  the  gentle  Hours  ;  then  forth  he  walks, 
Beneatn  the  trembling  languish  of  her  beam, 
With  soften'd  soul,  and  woos  the  bird  of  eve 
To  mingle  woes  with  his  :  or,  while  the  world 
And  all  the  sons  of  Care  lie  hush'd  in  sleep, 
Associates  with  the  midnight  shadows  drear  ; 
And,  sighing  to  the  lonely  taper,  pours 
His  idly-tortur'd  heart  into  the  page, 
Meant  for  the  moving  messenger  of  love  ; 
Where  rapture  jmrna  on  rapture,  every  line 
WitIT  risirig~f renzy  fir'd.     But  if  on  bed 
Delirious  flung,  sleep  from  his  pillow  flies, 
All  night  he  tosses,  nor  the  balmy  power 
In  any  posture  finds ;  till  the  grey  Mom 
Lifts  her  pale  lustre  on  the  paler  wretch, 
Exanimate  by  love  :  and  then  perhaps 
Exhausted  Nature  sinks  awhile  to  rest, 
Still  interrupted  by  distracted  dreams, 
That  o'er  the  sick  imagination  rise, 
AndnTBIack  colours  paint  tfie  mimic  scene. 
Oft  with  the  enchantress  of  his  soul  m?  talks  ; 
Sometimes  in  crowds  distress'd  ;  or  if  retir'd 
To  secret  winding  flower-enwoven  bowers, 
Far  from  the  dull  impertinence  of  Man, 
Just  as  he,  credulous,  his  endless  cares 


54  THE   SEASONS. 

Begins  to  lose  in  blind  oblivious  love, 

Snatch'd  from  her  yielded  hand,  he  knows  not  how, 

Through  forests  huge,  and  long  untravel'd  heaths 

With  desolation  brown,  he  wanders  waste, 

In  night  and  tempest  wrapt :  or  shrinks  aghast, 

Back,  from  the  bending  precipice ;  or  wades 

The  turbid  stream  below,  and  strives  to  reach 

The  further  shore  ;  where  succourless  and  sad, 

She  with  extended  arms  his  aid  implores  ; 

But  strives  in  vain  ;  borne  by  th'  outrageous  flood 

To  distance  down,  he  rides  the  ridgy  wave, 

Or  whelm'd  beneath  the  boiling  eddy  sinks. 

These  are  the  charming  agonies  of  love, 
Whose  misery  delights.     But  through  the  heart 
Should  jealousy  its  venom  once  diffuse, 
Tis  then  delightful  misery  no  more, 
But  agony  unmix'd,  incessant  gall, 
Corroding  every  thought,  and  blasting  all 
Love's  paradise.     Ye  fairy  prospects,  then, 
Ye  beds  of  roses,  and  ye  bowers  of  joy, 
Farewell !  ye  gleamings  of  departed  peace, 
Shine  out  your  last !  the  yellow-tinging  plague 
Internal  vision  taints,  and  in  a  night 
Of  livid  gloom  imagination  wraps. 
Ah,  then  !  instead  of  love  enliven'd  cheeks, 
Of  sunny  features,  and  of  ardent  eyes 
With  flowing  rapture  bright,  dark  looks  succeed, 
SufliiH'd  and  glaring  with  untender  fire  ; 
A  clouded  aspect,  and  a  burning  cheek, 


SPRING.  55 

Where  the  whole  poison'd  soul,  malignant,  sits, 

And  frightens  love  away.     Ten  thousand  fears 

Invented  wild,  ten  thousand  frantic  views 

Of  horrid  rivals,  hanging  on  the  charms 

For  which  he  melts  in  fondness,  eat  him  up 

With  fervent  anguish,  and  consuming  rage, 

In  vain  reproaches  lend  their  idle  aid, 

Deceitful  pride,  and  resolution  frail, 

Giving  false  peace  a  moment.     Fancy  pours, 

Afresh,  her  beauties  on  his  busy  thought, 

Her  first  endearments  twining  round  the  soul, 

With  all  the  witchcraft  of  ensnaring  love. 

Straight  the  fierce  storm  involves  his  mind  anew, 

Flames  through  the  nerves,  and  boils  along  the  veins  ; 

While  anxious  doubt  distracts  the  tortur"d  heart : 

For  eVn  the  sad  assurance  of  his  fears 

Were  ease  to  what  he  feels.    Thus  the  warm  youth, 

Whom  love  deludes  into  his  thorny  wilds, 

Through  flowery-tempting  paths,  or  leads  a  life 

Of  fever'd  rapture,  or  of  cruel  care  ; 

His  brightest  aims  extinguish'd  all,  and  all 

His  lively  moments  running  down  to  waste.    /-,  ~» 

But  happy  they^  !  the  happiest  of  their  kind  ! 
Whom  gentler  stars  unite,  and  in  one  fate 
Their  hearts,  their  fortunes,  and  their  beings  blend. 
'Tis  not  the  coarser  tie  of  human  laws, 
Unnatural  oft  and  foreign  to  the  mind, 
That  binds  their  peacef  but  harmony.  Itself, 
Attuuiag_all_their  passions  into  love  ; 


50  THK  SEASONS. 

Where  friendship  full-exerts  her  softest  power, 

Perfect  esteem  enlivened  by  desire 

Ineffable,  and  sympathy  of  soul ; 

Thought  meeting  thought,  and  will  preventing  will, 

With  boundless  confidence  :  for  nought  but  love 

Can  answer  love,  and  render  bliss  secure. 

Let  him,  ungenerous,  who,  alone  intent 

To  bless  himself,  from  sordid  parents  buys 

The  loathing  virgin,  in  eternal  care, 

Well-merited,  consume  his  nights  and  days  : 

Let  barbarous  nations,  whose  inhuman  love 

Is  wild  desire,  fierce  as  the  suns  they  feel ; 

Let  eastern  tyrants  from  the  light  of  heaven 

Seclude  their  bosom-slaves,  meanly  possess:d 

Of  a  mere  lifeless,  violated  form  : 

While  those  whom  love  cements  in  holy  faith, 

And  equal  transport,  free  as  Nature  live, 

Disdaining  fear.     What  is  the  world  to  them, 

Its  pomp,  its  pleasure,  and  its  nonsense  all  1 

Who  in  each  other  clasp  whatever  fair 

High  fancy  forms,  and  lavish  hearts  can  wish  ; 

Something  than  beauty  dearer,  should  they  look 

<  'i  <>ii  the  mind,  or  mind-illumin'd  face  ; 

Truth,  goodness,  honour,  harmony,  and  love, 

The  richest  bounty  of  indulgent  Heaven. 

Meantime  a  smiling  offspring  rises  round, 

And  mingles  both  their  graces.     By  degrees, 

The  human  blossom  blows;  and  every  day, 

Soft  as  it  rolls  along,  shows  some  new  charm, 


SPRING.  57 

The  father's  lustre,  and  the  mother's  bloom. 
Then  infant  reason  grown  apace,  and  calls 
For  the  kind  hand  of  an  assiduous  care. 
Delightful  task  !  to  rear  the  tender  thought, 
To  teach  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot, 
To  pour  the  fresh  instruction  o'er  the  mind, 
To  breathe  th'  enlivening  spirit,  and  to  fix 
The  generous  purpose  in  the  glowing  breast. 
Oh,  speak  the  joy  !  ye,  whom  the  sudden  tear 
Surprises  often,  while  you  look  around, 
And  nothing  strikes  your  eye  but  sights  of  bliss, 
All  various  Nature  pressing  on  the  heart : 
An  elegant  sufficiency,  content, 
Retirement,  rural  quiet,  friendship,  books, 
Ease  and  alternate  labour,  useful  life, 
Progressive  virtue,  and  approving  Heaven  ! 
These  are  the  matchless jojs^of^^rjbuc>usjove  ; 
And  thus  their  moments  fly.     The  Seasons  thus, 
As  ceaseless  round  a  jarring  world  they  roll, 
Still  find  them  happy  ;  and  consenting  SPRING 
Sheds  her  own  rosy  garland  on  their  heads  : 
Till  evening  comes  at  J.ast,  serene  and  mild  ; 
When  after  the  long  vernal  day  of  life, 
Enamour'd  more,  as  more  remembrance  swells 
With  many  a  proof  of  recollected  love, 
Together  down  they  sink  in  social  sleep  ; 
Together  freed,  their  gentle  spirits  fly 
To  scenes  where  love  and  bliss  immortal  reign. 


THE  subject  proposed.  Invocation.  Address  to  Mr.  Dod- 
ington.  An  introductory  reflection  on  the  motion  of  the 
heavenly  bodies;  whence  the  succession  of  the  seasons. 
As  the  face  of  Nature  in  this  season  is  almost  uniform, 
the  progress  of  the  poem  is  a  description  of  a  summer's 
day.  The  dawn.  Sun-rising.  Hymn  to  the  sun.  Fore- 
noon. Summer  insects  described.  Hay-making.  Sheep- 
shearing.  Noon-day.  A  woodland  retreat.  Group  of 
herd*  and  flocks.  A  solemn  grove  :  how  it  affects  a 
contemplative  mind.  A  cataract,  and  rude  scene.  View 
of  Summer  in  the  torrid  cone.  Storm  of  thunder  and 
lightning.  A  tale.  The  storm  over,  a  serene  afternoon. 
Bathing.  Hour  of  walking.  Transition  to  the  prospect 
of  a  rich  well -cultivated  country;  which  introduces  a 
panegyric  on  Great  Britain.  Sun-set.  Evening.  Night. 
Summer  meteors.  A  comet  The  whole  concluding  with 
the  praise  of  philosophy. 


slie  with  the  sylvan  pen 

Of  rural  lovers  this  confefsion  caiVd, 

Which  sooi\  Txr  Damon.  Trifs'd  with  weeping  j  oy ; 


DRAWN    BY  RICHARD  WKST<U.I,.R  A  .  |-'.W<;RAVKI>   H>'  CHAKI.KS   KOI.I.S 


SUMMER. 


FROM  brightening  fields  of  ether  fair  disclos'd, 

Child  of  the  Sun,  refulgent  SUMMER  comes, 

In  pride  of  youth,  and  felt  through  Nature's  depth  . 

He  comes  attended  by  the  sultry  Hours, 

And  ever-fanning  breezes,  on  his  way  ; 

While,  from  his  ardent  look,  the  turning  Spring 

Averts  her  blushful  face  ;  and  earth  and  skies, 

All-smiling,  to  his  hot  dominion  leaves. 

Hence,  let  me  haste  into  the  mid-wood  shade, 
Where  scarce  a  sunbeam  wanders  through  the  gloom  ; 
And  on  the  dark-green  grass,  beside  the  brink 
Of  haunted  stream,  that  by  the  roots  of  oak 
Rolls  o'er  the  rocky  channel,  lie  at  large, 
And  sing  the  glories  of  the  circling  year. 

Come,  Inspiration  !  from  thy  hermit-seat, 
By  mortal  seldom  found  :  may  Fancy  dare, 
From  thy  fix'd  serious  eye,  and  raptur'd  glance 
Shot  on  surrounding  heaven,  to  steal  one  look 
Creative  of  the  Poet,  every  power 
Exalting  to  an  ecstasy  of  soul. 

And  thou,  my  youthful  Muse's  early  friend, 
In  whom  the  human  "races  all  unite  : 


60  THE   SEASONS. 

Pure  light  of  mind,  and  tenderness  of  heart : 
Genius,  and  wisdom  ;  the  gay  social  sense, 
By  decency  chastis'd  ;  goodness  and  wit, 
In  seldom-meeting  harmony  combin'd  ; 
Unblemish'd  honour,  and  an  active  zeal 
For  Britain's  glory,  Liberty,  and  Man  : 
O  Dodington  !  attend  my  rural  song, 
Stoop  to  my  theme,  inspirit  every  line, 
And  teach  me  to  deserve  thy  just  applause. 

With  what  an  awful  world-revolving  power 
Were  first  the  unwieldy  planets  launch'd  along 
'I'll'  illimitable  void  !  thus  to  remain, 
Amid  the  flux  of  many  thousand  years, 
Tliat  oft  has  swept  the  toiling  race  of  men, 
And  all  their  laboured  monuments,  away, 
Firm,  unremitting,  matchless,  in  their  course  ; 
To  the  kind-temper'd  change  of  night  and  day, 
And  of  the  seasons  ever  stealing  round, 
Minutely  faithful :  such  th'  All-perfect  Hand  ! 
That  |«>i><l,  impels,  and  rules  the  steady  whole. 

When  now  no  more  th'  alternate  Twins  are  fir'd, 
And  Cancer  reddens  with  the  solar  blaze, 
Short  ia  the  doubtful  empire  of  the  night ; 
And  soon,  observant  of  approaching  day, 
The  meek-ey'd  Morn  appears,  mother  of  dew8, 
At  tint  faint-gleaming  in  the  dappled  east : 
Till  far  o'er  ether  spreads  the  widening  glow  ; 
And,  from  before  the  lustre  of  her  face, 
White  break  the  clouds  away.     With  quicken'd  step, 


SUMMER.  ()1 

Brown  Night  retires  :  young  Day  pours  iu  apace, 
And  opens  all  the  lawny  prospect  wide. 
The  dripping  rock,  the  mountain's  misty  top 
Swell  on  the  sight,  and  brighten  with  the  dawn. 
Blue,  through  the  dusk,  the  smoking  currents  shine  ; 
And  from  the  bladed  field  the  fearful  hare 
Limps,  awkward  :  while  along  the  forest-glade 
The  wild  deer  trip,  and  often  turning  gaze  • 
At  early  passenger.     Music  awakes 
The  native  voice  of  undissembled  joy  ; 
And  thick  around  the  woodland  hymns  arise. 
Eous'd  by  the  cock,  the  soon-clad  shepherd  leaves 
His  mossy  cottage,  where  with  Peace  he  dwells  ; 
And  from  the  crowded  fold,  in  order,  drives 
His  flock  to  taste  the  verdure  of  the  morn. 
Falsely  luxurious  !  will  not  Man  awake  ; 
And,  springing  from  the  bed  of  sloth,  enjoy 
The  cool,  the  fragrant,  and  the  silent  hour, 
To  meditation  due  and  sacred  song  1 
For  is  there  aught  in  sleep  can  charm  the  wise  ? 
To  lie  in  dead  oblivion,  losing  half 
The  fleeting  moments  of  too  short  a  life  ; 
Total  extinction  of  th'  enlighten'd  soul ! 
Or  else  to  feverish  vanity  alive, 
Wilder'd,  and  tossing  through  distemper'd  dreams  ? 
Who  would  in  such  a  gloomy  state  remain 
Longer  than  Nature  craves  ;  when  every  Muse 
And  every  blooming  pleasure  wait  without, 
To  bless  the  wildly -devious  morning  walk '! 


62  THE   SEASONS. 

But  yonder  comes  the  powerful  King  of^Day, 
Rejoicing  in  the  east.    The  lessening  cloud, 
The  kindling  azure,  and  the  mountain's  brow 
Illum'd  with  fluid  gold,  his  near  approach 
Betoken  glad.     Lo  !  now,  apparent  all, 
Aslant  the  dew-bright  earth,  and  colourVl  air, 
He  looks  in  boundless  majesty  abroad  ; 
And  sheds  the  shining  day,  that  burnish'd  plays 
On  rocks,  and  hills,  and  towers,  and  wandering  streams, 
High  gleaming  from  afar.     Prime  cheerer,  Light ! 
Of  all  material  beings  first,  and  best ! 
Efflux  divine  !  Nature's  resplendent  robe  ! 
Without  whose  vestal  beauty  all  were  wrapt 
In  unessential  gloom  ;  and  thou,  O  Sun  ! 
Soul  of  surrounding  worlds  !  in  whom  best  seen 
Shines  out  thy  Maker  ;  may  I  sing  of  thee  ? 

Tis  by  thy  secret,  strong,  attractive  force, 
As  with  a  chain  indissoluble  bound, 
Thy  system  rolls  entire  :  from  the  far  bourne 
Of  utmost  Saturn,  wheeling  wide  his  round 
Of  thirty  years  ;  to  Mercury,  whose  disk 
Can  scarce  be  caught  by  philosophic  eye, 
Lost  in  the  near  effulgence  of  thy  blaze. 

Informer  of  the  planetary  train  ! 
Without  whose  quickening  glance   their  cumbrous 

orbs 

Were  brute  unlovely  mass,  inert  and  dead, 
\ii-l  not,  ax  now,  the  green  abodes  of  life  ! 
many  forms  of  being  wait  nn  thee  ! 


SUMMER.  63 

Inhaling  spirit ;  from  th'  unfetter'd  mind, 
By  thee  sublim'd,  down  to  the  daily  race. 
The  mixing  myriads  of  thy  setting  beam. 

The  vegetable  world  is  also  thine, 
Parent  of  Seasons  !  who  the  pomp  precede 
That  waits  thy  throne,  as  through  thy  vast  domain, 
Annual,  along  the  bright  ecliptic  road, 
In  world-rejoicing  state,  it  moves  sublime. 
Meantime  th'  expecting  nations,  circled  gay 
With  all  the  various  tribes  of  foodf ul  earth, 
Implore  thy  bounty,  or  send  grateful  up 
A  common  hymn  :  while,  round  thy  beaming  car, 
High-seen,  the  Seasons  lead,  in  sprightly  dance 
Harmonious  knit,  the  rosy-finger'd  Hours, 
The  Zephyrs  floating  loose,  the  timely  Eains, 
Of  bloom  ethereal  the  light-footed  Dews, 
And  soften'd  into  joy  the  surly  Storms. 
These,  in  successive  turn,  with  lavish  hand, 
Shower  every  beauty,  every  fragrance  shower, 
Herbs,  flowers,  and  fruits  ;  and,  kindling  at  thy  touch 
From  land  to  land  is  flush'd  the  vernal  year. 

Nor  to  the  surface  of  enliven'd  earth, 
Graceful  with  hills  and  dales,  and  leafy  woods, 
Her  liberal  tresses,  is  thy  force  confin'd  : 
But,  to  the  bowel'd  cavern  darting  deep, 
The  mineral  kinds  confess  thy  mighty  power. 
Eifulgent,  hence  the  veiny  marble  shines  ; 
Hence  Labour  draws  his  tools ;  hence  burnish'd  War 
Gleams  on  the  day  ;  the  nobler  works  of  Peace 


64  TI1K   SEASONS. 

Heuce  bless  mankind,  and  generous  Commerce  binds 
The  round  of  nations  in  a  golden  chain. 

Th'  unfruitful  rock  itself,  iropregn'd  by  thee, 
In  dark  retirement  forms  the  lucid  stone. 
The  lively  diamond  drinks  thy  purest  rays, 
Collected  light,  compact ;  that,  polish 'd  bright, 
And  all  its  native  lustre  let  abroad, 
Dares,  as  it  sparkles  on  the  fair  one's  breast, 
With  vain  ambition  emulate  her  eyes. 
At  thee  the  ruby  lights  its  deepening  glow, 
And  with  a  waving  radiance  inward  flames. 
From  thee  the  sapphire,  solid  ether,  takes 
Its  hue  cerulean  ;  and,  of  evening  tinct, 
The  purple-streaming  amethyst  is  thine. 
With  thy  own  smile  the  yellow  topaz  burns. 
Nor  deeper  verdure  dyes  the  robe  of  Spring, 
When  first  she  gives  it  to  the  southern  gale, 
Than  the  green  emerald  shows.     But,  all  combin'd, 
Thick  through  the  whitening  opal  play  thy  beams  ; 
Or,  flying  several  from  its  surface,  form 
A  trembling  variance  of  revolving  hues, 
AH  the  site  varies  in  the  gazer's  hand. 

The  very  dead  creation,  from  thy  tom-li, 
Assumes  a  mimic  life.     By  thee  refin'd, 
In  brighter  mazes  the  relucent  stream 
Plays  o'er  the  mead.    The  precipice  abrupt, 
Projecting  horror  on  the  blacken'd  flood, 
Softens  at  thy  return.     The  desert  joys, 
Wildly,  through  all  hi*  melancholy  Ixmnds. 


SUMMER.  65 

Rude  ruins  glitter,  and  the  briny  deep, 
Seen  from  some  pointed  promontory's  top, 
Far  to  the  blue  horizon's  utmost  verge, 
Restless,  reflects  a  floating  gleam.     But  this, 
And  all  the  much-transported  Muse  can  sing, 
Are  to  thy  beauty,  dignity,  and  use, 
Unequal  far  ;  great  delegated  source 
Of  light,  and  life,  and  grace,  and  joy  below  ! 

How  shall  I  then  attempt  to  singpfHiM  ! 
Who,  Light  Himself,  in  uncreated  light 
Invested  deep,  dwells  awfully  retired 
From  mortal  eye,  or  angel's  purer  ken  ; 
Whose  single  smile  has,  from  the  first  of  time, 
Fill'd,  overflowing,  all  those  lamps  of  heaven, 
That  beam  for  ever  through  the  boundless  sky  : 
But,  should  he  hide  his  face,  th'  astonish'd  sun, 
And  all  th'  extinguish'd  stars,  would  loosening  reel 
Wide  from  their  spheres,  and  Chaos  come  again. 

And  yet  was  every  faltering  tongue  of  Man, 
ALMIGHTY  FATHER,  !  silent  in  thy  praise  ; 
Thy  Works  themselves  would  raise  a  general  voice, 
Ev'n  in  the  depth  of  solitary  woods 
By  human  foot  untrod  ;  proclaim  thy  power, 
And  to  the  quire  celestial  THEE  resound, 
Th'  eternal  cause,  support,  and  end  of  all  ! 

To  me  be  Nature's  volume  broad-display'd  ; 
And  to  peruse  its  all-instructing  page, 
Or,  haply  catching  inspiration  thence, 
Some  easy  passage,  raptur'd,  to  translate, 


66  THB   SEASONS. 

My  sole  delight ;  as  through  t  lie  falling  glooms 
Pensive  I  stray,  or  with  the  rising  dawn 
On  Fancy's  eagle-wing  excursive  soar. 
•Now,  flaming  up  the  heavens,  the  potent  sun 
Melts  into  limpid  air  the  high-rais'd  clouds, 
And  morning  fogs,  that  hovei-'d  round  the  hills 
In  party-colour'd  bands ;  till  wide  unveil'd 
The  face  of  Nature  shines,  from  where  earth 
Far-stretch'd  around,  to  meet  the  bending  sphere. 

Half  in  a  blush  of  clustering  roses  lost, 
Dew-dropping  Coolness  to  the  shade  retires ; 
There,  on  the  verdant  turf,  or  flowery  bed, 
By  gelid  founts  and  careless  rills  to  muse  ; 
While  tyrant  Heat,  dispreading  through  the  sky, 
With  rapid  sway  his  burning  influence  darts 
<  MI  man,  and  beast,  and  herb,  and  tepid  stream. 

Who  can  unpitying  see  the  flowery  race, 
Shed  by  the  morn,  their  new-flush'd  bloom  resign, 
Before  the  parching  beam  I  so  fade  the  fair, 
When  fevers  revel  through  their  azure  V»MDS. 
But  one  the  lofty  follower  of  the  sun, 
Sad  when  he  sets,  shuts  up  her  yellow  leaves, 
Drooping  all  night ;  and,  when  he  warm  returns 
Points  her  enamour'd  bosom  to  his  ray. 

Home,  from  his  morning  task,  the  swain  retreats  ; 
Hb  flock  before  him  stepping  to  the  fold  : 
Wliili-  tin-  fiill-u.l.lfiM  mother  lows  around 
The  cheerful  cottage,  then  expecting  food, 
Tin-  ffMMl  (,f  inruNTiicf  and  health  '.  the  daw, 


BUMMER.  67 

The  rook,  and  magpie,  to  the  grey-grown  oaks 

That  the  calm  village  in  their  verdant  arms, 

Sheltering,  embrace,  direct  their  lazy  flight ; 

Where  on  the  mingling  boughs  they  sit  embower'd, 

All  the  hot  noon,  till  cooler  hours  arise. 

Faint,  underneath,  the  household  fowls  convene  ; 

And,  in  a  corner  of  the  buzzing  shade, 

The  house-dog,  witli  the  vacant  greyhound,  lies, 

Out-stretch'd,  and  sleepy.  (  In  his  slumbers  one 

Attacks  the  nightly  thief,  and  one  exults 

O'er  hill  and  dale  :  till,  waken'd  by  the  wasp, 

They  starting  snap.     Nor  shall  the  Muse  disdain 

To  let  the  little  noisy  summer-race 

Live  in  her  lay,  and  flutter  through  her  song  : 

Not  mean  though  simple  ;  to  the  sun  ally'd, 

From  him  they  draw  their  animating  fire. 

Wak'd  by  his  warmer  ray,  the  reptile  young 
Come  wing'd  abroad  ;  by  the  light  air  upborne, 
Lighter,  and  full  of  soul.     From  every  chink, 
And  secret  corner,  where  they  slept  away 
The  wintry  storms  ;  or  rising  from  their  tombs, 
To  higher  life  ;  by  myriads,  forth  at  once, 
Swarming  they  pour  ;  of  all  the  vary'd  hues 
Their  beauty -beaming  parent  can~31sclose. 
Ten  thousand  forms,  ten  thousand  different  tribes, 
People  the  blaze.     To  sunny  waters  some 
By  fatal  instinct  fly  ;  where  on  the  pool 
They,  sportive,  wheel :  or,  sailing  down  the  stream, 
Are  snatch'd  immediate  by  the  quick-ey'd  trout, 


68  THE  SEASONS. 

Or  darting  salmon.    Through  the  green-wood  glade 
Some  love  to  stray  :  there  lodg'd,  anuis'd,  and  fed, 
In  the  fresh  leaf.     Luxurious,  others  make 
The  meads  their  choice,  and  visit  every  flower, 
And  every  latent  herb  :  for  the  sweet  task, 
To  propagate  their  kinds,  and  where  to  wrap, 
In  what  soft  beds,  their  young  yet  undisclos'd, 
Employs  their  tender  care.     Some  to  the  house, 
The  fold,  and  dairy,  hungry,  bend  their  flight ; 
Sip  round  the  pail,  or  taste  the  curdling  cheese  : 
Oft,  inadvertent,  from  the  milky  stream 
They  meet  their  fate  :  or,  weltering  in  the  bowl, 
With  powerless  wings  around  them  wrapt,  expire. 

But  chief  to  heedless  flies  the  window  proves 
A  constant  death  ;  where,  gloomily  retir'd, 
The  villain  spider  lives,  cunning,  and  fierce, 
Mixture  abhorr'd  ;  amid  a  mangled  heap 
Of  carcasses,  in  eager  watch  he  sits,   _- 
O'erlooking  all  his  waving  snares  around. 
Near  the  dire  cell  the  dreadless  wanderer  oft 
Passes,  as  oft  the  ruffian  shows  his  front ; 
The  prey  at  last  ensnar'd,  he  dreadful  darts, 
With  rapid  glide,  along  the  leaning  line  ; 
And,  fixing  in  the  wretch  his  cruel  fangs, 
Strikes  backward  grimly  pleas'd  ;  the  fluttering  wing, 
And  shriller  sound,  declare  extreme  distress, 
And  a-k  th«-  helping  hospitable  hand. 

Rttounds  the  living  surface  of  the  ground  : 
Nor  undelightfiil  is  the  ceaseless  hum, 


SUMMER.  69 

To  him  who  muses  through  the  woods  at  noon  ; 
Or  drowsy  shepherd,  as  he  lies  reclin'd, 
With  half-shut  eyes,  beneath  the  floating  shade 
Of  willows  grey,  close-crowding  o'er  the  brook.         »"^ 
Gradual,  from  these  what  numerous  kinds  descend, 
Evading  ev'n  the  microscopic  eye  ? 
Full  Nature  swarms  with  life  ;  one  wondrous  mass 
Of  animals,  or  atoms  organised, 
Waiting  the  vital  breath,  when  parent_Heaven 
Shall  bid  his  spirit  blow.     The  hoary  fen, 
In  putrid  streams,  emits  the  living  cloud 
Of  pestilence.    Through  subterranean  cells, 
Where  searching  sunbeams  scarce  can  find  a  way, 
Earth  animated  heaves.     The  flowery  leaf 
Wants  not  its  soft  inhabitants.     Secure, 
Within  its  winding  citadel,  the  stone 
Holds  multitudes.     But  chief  the  forest  boughs, 
That  dance  unnumber'd  to  the  playful  breeze, 
The  downy  orchard,  and  the  melting  pulp 
Of  mellow  fruit,  the  nameless  nations  feed 
Of  evanescent  insects.     Where  the  pool 
Stands  mantled  o'er  with  green,  invisible, 
Amid  the  floating  verdure  millions  stray. 
Each  liquid  too,  whether  it  pierces,  soothes, 
Inflames,  refreshes,  or  exalts  the  taste, 
With  various  forms  abounds.     Nor  is  the  stream 
Of  purest  crystal,  nor  the  lucid  air, 
Though  one  transparent  vacancy  it  seems, 
Void  of  their  unseen  people.     These,  conccal'd 


70  THK  SEASONS. 

By  the  kind  heart  of  forming  Heaven,  escape 
The  grosser  eye  of  man  :  for,  if  the  worlds 
In  worlds  enclos'd  should  on  his  senses  burst, 
From  cates  ambrosial,  and  the  nectar'd  bowl, 
He  would  abhorrent  turn  ;  and  in  dead  night, 
When  silence  sleeps  o'er  all,  be  stunn'd  with  noise. 

Let  no  presuming  impious  railer  tax 
CREATIVE  WISDOM,  as  if  aught  was  form'd 
In  vain,  or  not  for  admirable  ends. 
Shall  little  haughty  Ignorance  pronounce 
His  works  unwise,  of  which  the  smallest  part 
ExceedVthe  narrow  visions  of  her  mind  ? 
As  if  upon  a  full-proportion'd  dome, 
On  swelling  columns  heav'd,  the  pride  of  art ! 
A  critic-fly,  whose  feeble  ray  scarce  spreads 
An  inch  around,  with  blind  presumption  bold, 
Should  dare  to  tax  the  structure  of  the  whole. 
And  lives  the  Man,  whose  universal  eye 
Hafi  swept  at  once  th'  unbounded  scheme  of  things 
Mark'd  their  dependance  so,  and  firm  ari-.u-.l, 
As  with  unfaltering  accent  to  conclude 
That  this  availeth  nought  ?    Has  any  seen 
i    The  mighty  chain  of  beings,  lessening  <lc>\\n 
',    From  Infinite  Perfection  to  the  brink 
<  »f  1 1  wiry  nothing,  desolate  abyss  ! 
From  which  astonish'd  thought,  recoiling,  turns  ( 
Till  tlit-n  alone  let  zealous  praise-  am-i  ml. 
Ami  hymn*  of  holy  wonder,  to  that  POWER, 
Whoae  wiwlom  Hhinon  RM  lovely  on  our  mind*. 


SUMMER.  71 

As  on  our  smiling  eyes  his  servant-sun. 

Thick  in  yon  stream  of  light,  a  thousand  ways, 
Upward,  and  downward,  thwarting,  and  convolv'd, 
The  quivering  nations  sport ;  till,  tempest-wing'd, 
Fierce  Winter  sweeps  them  from  the  face  of  day. 
Ev'n  so  luxurious  men,  unheeding,  pass 
An  idle  summer  life  in  fortune's  shine, 
A  season's  glitter  !  thus  they  flutter  on 
From  toy  to  toy,  from  vanity  to  vice  ; 
Till,  blown  away  by  death,  oblivion  comes 
Behind,  and  strikes  them  from  the  book  of  life. 

Now  swarms  the  village  o'er  the  jovial  mead  : 
The  rustic  youth,  brown  with  meridian  toil, 
Healthful  and  strong  ;  full  as  the  summer  rose 
Blown  by  prevailing  suns,  the  ruddy  maid,- 
Half  naked,  swelling  on  the  sight,  and  "all 
Her  kindled  graces  burning  o'er  her  cheek. 
Ev'n  stooping  age  is  here  ;  and  infant-hands 
Trail  the  long  rake,  or,  with  the  fragrant  load 
O'ercharg'd,  amid  the  kind  oppression  roll. 
Wide  flies  the  tedded  grain  ;  all  in  a  row 
Advancing  broad,  or  wheeling  round  the  field, 
They  spread  the  breathing  harvest  to  the  sun, 
That  throws  refreshful  round  a  rural  smell  : 
Or,  as  they  rake  the  green-appearing  ground, 
And  drive  the  dusky  wave  along  the  mead, 
The  russet  hay-cock  rises  thick  behind, 
In  order  gay.     While  heard  from  dale  to  dale, 
Waking  the  breeze,  resounds  the  blended  voice 


72  THE  SEASONS. 

Of  happy  labour,  love,  and  social  glee. 

Or  rushing  thence,  in  one  diffusive  band, 
They  drive  the  troubled  flocks,  by  many  a  dog 
Compell'd,  to  where  the  mazy -running  brook 
Forms  a  deep  pool ;  this  bank  abrupt  and  high, 
And  that  fair  spreading  in  a  pebbled  shore. 
UrgM  to  the  giddy  brink,  much  is  the  toil, 
The  clamour  much,  of  men,  and  boys,  and  dogs, 
Ere  the  soft  fearful  people  to  the  flood 
Commit  their  woolly  sides.    And  oft  the  swain, 
On  some  impatient  seizing,  hurls  them  in  : 
Embolden'd  then,  nor  hesitating  more, 
Fast,  fast,  they  plunge  amid  the  flashing  wave, 
And  panting  labour  to  the  furthest  shore. 
Repeated  this,  till  deep  the  well-wash'd  fleece 
Haa  drunk  the  flood,  and  from  his  lively  haunt 
The  trout  is  KuiishM  by  the  sordid  stream  ; 
Heavy,  and  dripping,  to  the  breezy  brow 
Slow  move  the  harmless  race  :  where,  as  they  spread 
Their  swelling  treasures  to  the  sunny  ray, 
I  Inly  disturb'd  and  wondering  what  this  wild 
.  Outrageous  tumult  means,  their  loud  complaints 
1  The  country  fill ;  and,  toss'd  from  rock  to  nx-k, 
Incessant  bleatings  run  around  the  hills. 
At  but,  of  snowy  white,  the  gather'd  flocks 
Are  in  the  wattled  pen  innumerous  press 'd, 
Head  above  head  :  and  rang'd  in  lusty  rows 
The  shepherds  sit,  and  whet  the  Bounding  shears. 
The  housewife  wait*  to  roll  her  fleecy  stores, 


SUMMER. 


73 


With  all  her  gay-drest  maids  attending  around. 
One,  chief,  in  gracious  dignity  enthron'd, 
Shines  o'er  the  rest,  the  pastoral  queen,  and  rays 
Her  smiles,  sweet-beaming,  on  her  shepherd-king  ; 
While  the  glad  circle  round  them  yield  their  souls 
To  festive  mirth,  and  wit  that  knows  no  gall. 
Meantime,  their  joyous  task  goes  on  apace  : 
Some  mingling  stir  the  melted  tar,  and  some, 
Deep  on  the  new-shorn  vagrant's  heaving  side, 
To  stamp  the  master's  cypher  ready  stand  ; 
Other  th'  unwilling  wether  drag  along  ; 
And,  glorying  in  his  might,  the  sturdy  boy 
Holds  by  the  twisted  horns  the  indignant  ram. 
Behold  where  bound,  and  of  its  robe  bereft, 
By  needy  Man,  that  all-depending  lord, 
How  meek,  how  patient,  the  mild  creature  lies  ! 
What  softness  in  its  melancholy  face, 
What  dumb  complaining  innocence  appears  ! 
Fear  not,  ye  gentle  tribes,  'tis  not  the  knife 
Of  horrid  slaughter  that  is  o'er  you  wav'd  ; 
No,  'tis  the  tender  swain's  well-guided  shears, 
Who  having  now,  to  pay  his  annual  care, 
Borrow'd  your  fleece,  to  you  a  cumbrous  load, 
Will  send  you  bounding  to  your  hills  again. 
A  simple  scene  !  yet  hence  Britannia  sees 
Her  solid  grandeur  rise  :  hence  she  commands 
Th'  exalted  stores  of  every  brighter  clime, 
The  treasures  of  the  Sun  without  his  rage  : 
Hence,  fervent  all,  with  culture,  toil,  and  arts, 


74  THE   SKASOXS. 

Wide  glows  her  laud  :  her  dreadful  thunder  lu-iu-o 
Rides  o'er  the  waves  sublime,  and  now  ev'u  now. 
Impending  hangs  o'er  Gallia's  humbled  coast ; 
Hence  rules  the  circling  deep,  and  awes  the  world. 

'Tis  raging  noon  ;  and,  vertical,  the  sun 
Darts  on  the  head  direct  his  forceful  rays. 
O'er  heaven  and  earth,  far  as  the  ranging  eve 
<an  sweep,  a  dazzling  deluge  reigns  ;  and  all 
From  pole  to  pole  is  uudistinguish'd  blaze. 
In  vain  the  sight,  dejected,  to  the  ground 
Stoops  for  relief  ;  thence  hot-ascending  steams 
And  keen  reflection  pain.     Deep  to  the  root 
Of  vegetation  parch'd,  the  cleaving  fields 
And  slippery  lawn  an  arid  hue  disclose, 
Blast  Fancy's  bloom,  and  wither  ev'n  the  soul. 
Echo  no  more  returns  the  cheerful  mmnd 
Of  sharpening  scythe  :  the  mower  sinking  heaps 
O'er  him  the  humid  hay,  with  flowers  perfum'd 
And  scarce  a  chirping  grasshopper  is  heard 
Through  the  dumb  mead.     Distressful  Nature  pants. 
The  very  streams  look  languid  from  afar : 
Or,  through  th"  unsheltered  glade,  imjvitiont, 
To  hurl  into  the  covert  of  the  grove. 

All-r<iinjii.'iiii^  H.-nt,  oh  intermit  thy  wrath  ! 
And  on  my  throbbing  temples  potent  thus 
Beam  not  so  fierce  !  incessant  still  you  flow, 
A  inl  still  another  fervent  flood  succeeds, 
I'.'m  .1  mi  the  head  profuse.     In  vain  I  sigh, 
And  i. •-.'!.•>.  turn,  and  look  around  for  night  ; 


SUMMER.  75 

Night  is  far  off ;  and  hotter  hours  approach. 
Thrice  happy  he  !  who  on  the  sunless  side 
Of  a  romantic  mountain,  forest-crown'd, 
Beneath  the  whole  collected  shade  reclines  : 
Or  in  the  gelid  caverns,  woodbine-wrought, 
And  fresh  bedew'd  with  ever-spouting  streams, 
Sits  coolly  calm  ;  while  all  the  world  without, 
Unsatisfied,  and  sick,  tosses  in  noon. 
Emblem  instructive  of  the  virtuous  man, 
Who  keeps  his  temper'd  mind  serene,  and  pure, 
And  every  passion  aptly  harmoniz'd, 
Amid  a  jarring  world  with  vice  inflam'd. 

Welcome,  ye  shades  !  ye  bowery  thickets,  hail  ! 
Ye  lofty  pines  !  ye  venerable  oaks  ! 
Ye  ashes  wild,  resounding  o'er  the  steep  ! 
Delicious  is  your  shelter  to  the  soul, 
As  to  the  hunted  hart  the  sallying  spring, 
Or  stream  full-flowing,  that  his  swelling  sides 
Laves,  as  he  floats  along  the  herbag'd  brink. 
Cool,  through  the  nerves,  your  pleasing  comfort  glides ; 
The  heart  beats  glad  ;  the  fresh-expanded  eye 
And  ear  resume  their  watch  ;  the  sinews  knit ; 
And  life  shoots  swift  through  all  the  lighten'd  limbs. 

Around  th'  adjoining  brook,  that  purls  along 
The  vocal  grove,  now  fretting  o'er  a  rock, 
Now  scarcely  moving  through  a  reedy  pool, 
Now  starting  to  a  sudden  stream,  and  now 
Gently  diffus'd  into  a  limpid  plain  ; 
A  various  group  the  herds  and  flocks  compose, 


76  THE  SEASONS. 

Rural  confusion  !  on  the  grassy  bank 

Some  ruminating  lie  ;  while  others  stand 

Half  in  the  flood,  and  often  bending  sip 

The  circling  surface.     In  the  middle  droops  ' 

The  strong  laborious  ox,  of  honest  front, 

Which  incompos'd  he  shakes  ;  and  from  his  sides 

The  troublous  insects  lashes  with  his  tail, 

Returning  still.    Amid  his  subjects  safe, 

Slumbers  the  monarch-swain  ;  his  careless  arm 

Thrown  round  his  head,  on  downy  moss  sustain'd  ; 

Here  laid  his  scrip,  with  wholesome  viands  fill'd  ; 

There,  listening  every  noise,  his  watchful  dog. 

Light  fly  his  slumbers,  if  perchance  a  flight 

Of  angry  gad-flies  fasten  on  the  herd  ; 

That  starting  scatters  from  the  shallow  brook, 

In  search  of  lavish  stream.    Tossing  the  foam, 

They  scorn  the  keeper's  voice,  and  scour  the  plain, 

Through  all  the  bright  severity  of  noon  ; 

While,  from  their  labouring  breasts,  a  hollow  moan 

Proceeding,  runs  low-bellowing  round  the  hills. 

Oft  in  this  season  too  the  horse,  provok'd, 
While  his  big  sinews  full  of  spirits  swell, 
Trembling  with  vigour,  in  the  heat  of  blood, 
Springs  the  high  fence  ;  and,  o'er  the  field  effusM 
Darin  on  the  gloomy  flood,  with  stedfast  eye, 
And  heart  estrang'd  to  fear  :  his  nervous  chest, 
Luxuriant,  and  erect,  the  seat  of  strength  ! 
Bean  down  th'  opposing  stream  :  <|tienehless  liis  thirst; 
II-    takes  the  ri\.T  at  i  •  .lnul>lr.l 


SUMMER.  77 

And  with  wide  nostrils,  snorting,  skims  the  wave. 

Still  let  me  pierce  into  the  midnight  depth 
Of  yonder  grove,  of  wildest  largest  growth  : 
That  forming  high  in  air,  a  woodland  quire, 
Nods  o'er  the  mount  beneath.     At  every  step, 
Solemn,  and  slow,  the  shadows  blacker  fall, 
And-all  is  awful  listening  gloom  around. 

These  are  the  haunts  of  Meditation,  these 
The  scenes  where  ancient  bards  th'  inspiring  breath, 
Ecstatic,  felt ;  and,  from  this  world  retir'd, 
Convers'd  with  angels,  and  immortal  forms, 
On  gracious  errands  bent :  to  save  the  fall 
Of  virtue  struggling  on  the  brink  of  vice ; 
In  waking  whispers,  and  repeated  dreams, 
To  hint  pure  thought,  and  warn  the  favour'd  soul 
For  future  trials  fated  to  prepare  ; 
To  prompt  the  poet,  who  devoted  gives 
His  muse  to  better  themes  ;  to  soothe  the  pangs 
Of  dying  worth,  and  from  the  patriot's  breast 
(Backward  to  mingle  in  detested  war, 
But  foremost  when  engag'd)  to  turn  the  death  ; 
And  numberless  such  offices  of  love, 
Daily,  and  nightly,  zealous  to  perform. 

Shook  sudden  from  the  bosom  of  the  sky, 
A  thousand  shapes  or  glide  athwart  the  dusk, 
Or  stalk  majestic  on.     Deep-rous'd,  I  feel 
A  sacred  terror,  a  severe  delight, 

Creep  through  my  mortal  frame  ;  and  thus,  methinks, 
A  voice,  than  human  more,  the  abstracted  ear 


78  TUB  SEASONS. 

Of  fancy  strikes  : — "  Be  not  of  us  afraid, 
Poor  kindred  man  !  thy  fellow-creatures,  we 
From  the  same  Parent-Power  our  beings  drew, 
The  same  our  Lord,  and  laws,  and  great  pursuit, 
Once  some  of  us,  like  thee,  through  stormy  life, 
Toil'd,  tempest-beaten,  ere  we  could  attain 
This  holy  calm,  this  harmony  of  mind, 
Where  purity  and  peace  immingle  charms. 
Then  fear  not  us  ;  but  with  responsive  song, 
Amid  these  dim  recesses,  undisturb'd 
~Sy  noisy  folly  and  discordant  vice, 
Of  Nature  sing  with  us,  and  Nature's  Goi>. 
Here  frequent,  at  the  visionary  hour, 
When  musing  midnight  reigns  or  silent  noon, 
Angelic  harps  are  in  full  concert  heard, 
And  voices  chanting  from  the  wood-crown 'd  hill, 
The  deepening  dale,  or  inmost  silvan  glade  : 
A  privilege  bestow'd  by  us  alone, 
On  Contemplation,  or  the  hallow'd  ear 
Of  poet,  swelling  to  seraphic  strain.'1 

And  art  thou,  Stanly,*  of  that  sacred  band  ? 
Alas,  for  us  too  soon  !  though  rais'd  above 
The  reach  of  human  |>ain,  above  the  flight 
Of  human  joy  ;  yet,  with  a  mingled  ray 
Of  sadly  pleas'd  remembrance,  must  thou  feel 
A  mother's  love,  a  mother's  tender  woe  : 
Who  Heekii  thee  still,  in  many  u  fonnrr  8«vne  ; 

'  A  young  Udy,  who  died  nt  the  »ge  of  eighteen,  in  the  your 
173R,  upon  whom  Thomson  wrote  an  epitaph. 


SUMMER.  70 

Seeks  thy  fair  form,  thy  lovely-beaming  eyes, 
Thy  pleasing  converse,  by  gay  lively  sens 
Inspir'd  :  where  moral  wisdom  mildly  shone, 
Without  the  toil  of  art ;  and  virtue  glow'd, 
In  all  her  smiles,  without  forbidding  pride. 
But,  O  thou  best  of  parents  !  wipe  thy  tears  ; 
Or  rather  to  Parental  Nature  pay 
The  tears  of  grateful  joy,  who  for  awhile 
Lent  thee  this  younger  self,  this  opening  bloom 
Of  thy  enlightened  mind  and  gentle  worth. 
Believe  the  Muse  :  the  wintry  blast  of  death 
Kills  not  the  buds  of  virtue  ;  no,  they  spread, 
Beneath  the  heavenly  beam  of  brighter  suna, 
Through  endless  ages,  into  higher  powers. 

Thus  up  the  mount,  in  airy  vision  wrapt, 
I  stray,  regardless  whither  ;  till  the  sound 
Of  a  near  fall  of  water  every  sense 
"Wakes  from  the  charm  of  thought :  swift-shrinking 

back, 
I  check  my  steps,  and  view  the  broken  scene. 

Smooth  to  the  shelving  brink  a  copious  flood 
Rolls  fair,  and  placid  ;  where  collected  all," 
In  one  impetuous  torrent,  down  the  steep 
It  thundering  shoots,  and  shakes  the  country  round. 
At  first,  an  azure  sheet,  it  rushes  broad  ; 
Then  whitening  by  degrees,  as  prone  it  falls, 
And  from  the  loud-resounding  rocks  below 
Dash'd  in  a  cloud  of  foam,  it  sends  aloft 
A  hoary  mist,  and  forms  a  ceaseless  shower. 


HI  THE   SEASONS. 

Nor  can  the  torturM  wave  here  find  rej>ose  : 
But,  raging  still  amid  the  shaggy  rocks, 
Now  flashes  o'er  the  scatter'd  fragments,  now 
Aslant  the  hollow  cliaimel  rapid  darts  ; 
And  falling  fast  from  gradual  slope  to  slope, 
With  wild  infracted  course,  and  lessen'd  rt>ar, 
It  gains  a  safer  bed,  and  steals,  at  last, 
Along  the  mazes  of  the  quiet  vale. 

Invited  from  the  cliff,  to  whose  dark  brow 
He  rlings,  the  steep-ascending  eagle  soars, 
With  upward  pinions  through  the  flood  of  day  ; 
And,  giving  full  his  bosom  to  the  blaze, 
(Jains  on  the  sun  ;  while  all  the  tuneful  race, 
Smit  by  afflictive  noon,  disorder"d  droop, 
Deep  in  the  thicket ;  or,  from  bower  to  bower 
Responsive,  force  an  interrupted  strain. 
The  stock -dove  only  through  the  forest  cooes, 
Mournfully  hoarse  ;  oft  ceasing  from  his  plaint, 
Short  interval  of  weary  woe  !  again 
The  sad  idea  of  his  murderM  mate, 
Struck  from  his  side  by  savage  fowler's  guile, 
Across  his  fancy  comes  ;  and  then  resounds 
A  louder  song  of  sorrow  through  the  grove. 

Beside  the  dewy  bonier  let  me  sit, 
All  in  the  freshness  of  the  humid  air : 
Tin-re  in  that  hollow'd  rock,  grotesque  and  wild, 
An  ample  chnir  moHs-lin'd,  and  over  lu-ad 
By  flowering  umbrage  xhaded  ;  wln-iv  tin-  1... 
Stray H  diligent,  and  with  th'  extracted  Italin 


SUMMKR.  81 

Of  fragrant  woodbine  loads  his  little  thigh. 

Now,  while  I  taste  the  sweetness  of  the  shade, 
While  Nature  lies  around  deep-lull'd  in  noon, 
Noyucome.  bold  Fancy,  spread  a  daring  flight,       • 
And  view  the  wonders  of  the  torrid  zone  : 
Climes  unrelenting  !  with  whose  rage  compared, 
Yon  blaze  is  feeble,  and  yon  skies  are  cool. 

See,  how  at  once  the  bright-effulgent  sun, 
Rising  direct,  swift  chases  from  the  sky 
The  short-liv'd  twilight ;  and  with  ardent  blaze 
Looks  gaily  fierce  through  all  the  dazzling  air  : 
He  mounts  his  throne  ;  but  kind  before  him  sends, 
Issuing  from  out  the  portals  of  the  morn, 
The  general  breeze,*  to  mitigate  his  fire, 
And  breathe  refreshment  on  a  fainting  world. 
Great  are  the  scenes,  with  dreadful  beauty  crown'd 
And  barbarous  wealth,  that  see,  each  circling  year, 
Returning  suns  and  double  seasons  t  pass  : 
Rocks  rich  in  gems,  and  mountains  big  with  mines, 
That  on  the  high  equator  ridgy  rise, 
Whence  many  a  bursting  stream  auriferous  plays  : 
Majestic  woods,  of  every  vigorous  green, 
Stage  above  stage,  high  waving  o'er  the  hills  ; 

*  Which  blows  constantly  between  the  tropics  from  the 
east,  or  the  collateral  points,  the  north-east  and  south-east : 
caused  by  the  pressure  of  the  rarified  air  on  that  before  it, 
according  to  the  diurnal  motion  of  the  sun  from  east  to  west. 

t  In  all  climates  between  the  tropics,  the  sun,  as  he  passes 
and  repasses  in  his  annual  motion,  is  twice  a  year  vertical, 
which  produces  this  effect. 

F 


82  TUB  SEASONS. 

Or  to  the  far  horizon  wide  diffus'd, 

A  boundless  deep  immensity  of  shade. 

Here  lofty  trees,  to  ancient  song  unknown, 

The  noble  sous  of  potent  heat  and  floods 

Prone-rushing  from  the  clouds,  rear  high  to  heaven 

Their  thorny  stems,  and  broad  around  them  throw 

Meridian  gloom.     Here,  in  eternal  prime, 

Unnumber'd  fruits  of  keen  delicious  taste 

And  vital  spirit,  drink  amid  the  cliffo, 

And  burning  sands  that  bank  the  shrubby  vales, 

Redoubled  day,  yet  in  their  rugged  coats 

A  friendly  juice  to  cool  its  rage  contain. 

Bear  me,  Pomona  !  to  thy  citron  groves  ; 
To  where  the  lemon  and  the  piercing  lime, 
With  the  deep  orange,  glowing  through  the  green, 
Their  lighter  glories  blend.     Lay  me  reclin'd 
Beneath  the  spreading  tamarind  that  shakes, 
Fann'd  by  the  breeze,  its  fever-cooling  fruit. 
Deep  in  the  night  the  massy  locust  sheds, 
Quench  my  hot  limbs  ;  or  lead  me  through  the  maze, 
Embowering  endless,  of  the  Indian  fig ; 
Or  thrown  at  gayer  ease,  on  some  fair  brow, 
Let  me  behold,  by  breezy  murmurs  cool'd, 
Broad  o'er  my  head  the  verdant  cedar  wave, 
And  high  palmetos  lift  their  graceful  shade. 
Or  stretch'd  amid  these  orchards  of  the  sun, 
Give  me  to  drain  the  cocoa's  milky  bowl, 
An-1  from  the  palm  to  draw  it*  freshening  wine  ! 
More  bounteous  far  than  all  the  frantic  jui< , 


8UMMKR.  83 

Which  Bacchus  pours.     Nor,  on  its  slender  twigs 
Low-bending,  be  the  full  pomegranate  scorn'd  ; 
Nor,  creeping  through  the  woods,  the  gelid  race 
Of  berries.     Oft  in  humble  station  dwells 
Unboastful  worth,  above  fastidious  pomp. 
Witness,  thou  best  Anana,  thou  the  pride 
Of  vegetable  life,  beyond  whate'er 
The  poets  imag'd  in  the  golden  age  : 
Quick  let  me  strip  thee  of  thy  tufty  coat, 
Spread  thy  ambrosial  stores,  and  feast  with  Jove  ! 

From  these  the  prospect  varies.     Plains  immense 
Lie  stretch'd  below,  interminable  meads, 
And  vast  savannahs,  where  the  wandering  eye, 
Unfixt,  is  in  a  verdant  ocean  lost. 
Another  Flora  there  of  bolderTuies, 
And  richer  sweets,  beyond  our  garden's  pride, 
Plays  o'er  the  fields,  and  showers  with  sudden  hand 
Exuberant  spring  :  for  oft  these  valleys  shift 
Their  green-embroider'd  robe  to  fiery  brown, 
And  swift  to  green  again,  as  scorching  suns, 
Or  streaming  dews  and  torrent  rains,  prevail. 

Along  these  lonely  regions,  where  retired, 
From  little  sceues  of  art,  great  Nature  dwells 
In  awful  solitude,  and  nought  is  seen 
But  the  wild  herds  that  own  no  master's  stall, 
Prodigious  rivers  roll  their  fattening  seas  : 
On  whose  luxuriant  herbage,  half-conceal'd, 
Like  a  fallen  cedar,  far  diffus'd  his  train, 
Cas'd  in  green  scales,  the  crocodile  extends. 


84  THE   SEASONS. 

The  flood  dispart*  :  behold  !  in  plaited  mail, 
Behemoth  *  rears  his  head.    Glanc'd  from  his  side, 
Tin-  darted  steel  in  idle  shivers  flies  : 
He  fearless  walks  the  plain,  or  seeks  the  hills  ; 
Where,  as  lie  crops  his  varied  fare,  the  herds, 
In  widening  circle  round,  forget  their  food, 
And  at  the  harmless  stranger  wondering  gaze. 

Peaceful,  beneath  primeval  trees,  that  cast 
Their  ample  shade  o'er  Niger's  yellow  stream, 
And  where  the  Ganges  rolls  his  sacred  wave  ; 
Or  mid  the  central  depth  of  blackening  woods, 
High-rais'd  in  solemn  theatre  around, 
Leans  the  huge  elepliant :  wisest  of  brutes  ! 
O  tnily  wise  !  with  gentle  might  endow'd, 

/  Though  powerful,  not  destructive  !  here  he  sees 
Revolving  ages  sweep  the  changeful  earth, 

]  And  empires  rise  and  fall ;  regardless  he 
Of  what  the  never-resting  race  of  men 
Project :  thrice  happy  !  could  he  scape  their  guile, 
Who  mine,  from  cruel  avarice,  his  steps  ; 
Or  with  hix  towery  grandeur  swell  their  state, 
The  pride  of  kings  !  or  else  his  strength  ix.'rvert, 
And  bid  him  rage  amid  the  mortal  fray, 
AHtonish'd  at  the  madness  of  mankind. 

Wide  o'er  the  winding  umbrage  of  the  floods, 
Like  vivid  blossoms  glowing  fr«>m  afar, 
Thick  swarm  tin-  brighter  birds.     For  Natmv's  han.1, 
That  with  a  s|Kirtivc  vanity  has  deckM 

*  The  Hi]>iio|K>UmuN,  or  river-hone. 


SUMMER.  86 

The  plumy  nations,  there  her  gayest  hues 
Profusely  pours.*    But,  if  she  bids  them  shine, 
Array'd  in  all  the  beauteous  beams  of  day, 
Yet  frugal  still,  she  humbles  them  in  song. 
Nor  envy  we  the  gaudy  robes  they  lent  v 

Proud  Montezuma's  realm,  whose  legions  cast 
A  boundless  radiance  waving  on  the  sun, 
While  Philomel  is  ours  ;  while  in  our  shades, 
Through  the  soft  silence  of  the  listening  night, 
The  sober-suited  songstress  trills  her  lay. 

But  come,  my  Muse,  the  desert-barrier  burst, 
A  wild  expanse  of  lifeless  sand  and  sky  : 
And,  swifter  than  the  toiling  caravan, 
Shoot  o'er  the  vale  of  Sennar  ;  ardent  climb 
The  Nubian  mountains,  and  the  secret  bounds 
Of  jealous  Abyssinia  boldly  pierce. 
Thou  art  no  ruffian,  who  beneath  the  mask 
Of  social  commerce  com'st  to  rob  their  wealth  ; 
No  holy  fury  thou,  blaspheming  Heaven, 
With  consecrated  steel  to  stab  their  peace, 
And  through  the  land,  yet  red  from  civil  wounds, 
To  spread  the  purple  tyranny  of  Rome. 
Thou,  like  the  harmless  bee,  may'st  freely  range, 
From  mead  to  mead  bright  with  exalted  flowers, 
From  jasmine  grove  to  grove,  may'st  wander  gay, 
Through  palmy  shades  and  aromatic  woods, 

*  In  all  the  regions  of  the  torrid  zone,  the  birds,  though 
more  beautiful  in  their  plumage,  are  observed  to  be  less 
melodious  than  ours. 


>»:  THB  SEASONS. 

That  grace  the  plains,  invest  the  peopled  hills, 
And  up  the  more  than  Alpine  mountains  wave. 
There  on  the  breezy  summit,  spreading  fair, 
For  many  a  league  ;  or  on  stupendous  rocks, 
That  from  the  sun-redoubling  valley  lift, 
Cool  to  the  middle  air,  their  lawny  tops  ; 
Where  palaces,  and  fanes,  and  villas  rise  ; 
And  gardens  smile  around,  and  cultur'd  fields  ; 
And  fountains  gush  ;  and  careless  herds  and  flocks 
Securely  stray  ;  a  world  within  itself, 
Disdaining  all  assault :  there  let  me  draw 
Ethereal  soul,  there  drink  reviving  gales, 
Profusely  breathing  from  the  spicy  groves, 
And  vales  of  fragrance  ;  there  at  distance  hear 
The  roaring  floods,  and  cataracts,  that  sweep 
From  disembowel'd  earth  the  virgin  gold  ; 
And  o'er  the  varied  landscape,  restless,  rove, 
Fervent  with  life  of  every  fairer  kind  : 
A  land  of  wonders  !  which  the  RUM  still  eyes 
With  ray  direct,  as  of  the  lovely  realm 
Enamour'd,  and  delighting  there  to  dwell. 

How  chang'd  the  scene  I  in  blazing  height  of  noon, 
The  sun,  oppress'd,  is  plung'd  in  thickest  gloom. 
Still  horror  reigns,  a  dreary  twilight  round, 
Of  struggling  night  and  day  malignant  mix'd. 
For  to  the  hot  equator  crowding  fast, 
Where,  highly  rarefied,  the  yielding  air 
Admit*  their  stream,  incessant  vapours  roll, 
Amazing  cloud*  on  clouds  «.nt inual  heap'd  ; 


SUMMER.  87 

Or  whirl'd  tempestuous  by  the  gusty  wind, 

Or  silent  borne  along,  heavy,  and  slow, 

With  the  big  stores  of  steaming  oceans  charg'd. 

Meantime,  amid  these  upper  seas,  condens'd 

Around  the  cold  aerial  mountain's  brow, 

And  by  conflicting  winds  together  dash'd, 

The  Thunder  holds  his  black  tremendous  throne  ; 

From  cloud  to  cloud  the  rending  lightnings  rage  ; 

Till,  in  the  furious  elemental  war 

Dissolv'd,  the  whole  precipitated  mass 

Unbroken  floods  and  solid  torrents  pours. 

The  treasures  these,  hid  from  the  bounded  search 
Of  ancient  knowledge  ;  whence,  with  annual  pomp, 
Rich  king  of  floods  !  o'erflows  the  swelling  Nile. 
From  his  two  springs,  in  Go  jam's  sunny  realm, 
Pure-welling  out,  he  through  the  lucid  lake 
Of  fair  Dambea  rolls  his  infant  stream. 
There,  by  the  naiads  nurs'd,  he  sports  away 
His  playful  youth,  amid  the  fragrant  isles, 
That  with  unfading  verdure  smile  around. 
Ambitious,  thence  the  manly  river  breaks  ; 
And  gathering  many  a  flood,  and  copious  fed 
With  all  the  mellow'd  treasures  of  the  sky, 
Winds  in  progressive  majesty  along  : 
Through  splendid  kingdoms  now  devolves  his  maze, 
Now  wanders  wild  o'er  solitary  tracts 
Of  life-deserted  sand  ;  till,  glad  to  quit 
The  joyless  desert,  down  the  Nubian  rocks 
From  thundering  steep  to  steep,  he  pours  his  urn, 


S>  THE   SRA8OKS. 

And  Egypt  joys  beneath  the  spreading  wave. 

His  brother  Niger  too,  and  all  the  floods 
In  which  the  full-form'd  maids  of  Afric  lave 
Their  jetty  limbs  ;  and  all  that  from  the  tract 
Of  woody  mountains  stretch'd  through  gorgeous  Ind 
Fall  on  Connandel's  coast,  or  Malalwu-  ; 
From  Meuam's*  orient  stream,  that  nightly  shines 
With  insect-lamps,  to  where  Aurora  sheds 
On  Indus'  smiling  banks  the  rosy  shower  : 
All  at  this  bounteous  season,  ope  their  urns, 
And  pour  untoiliug  liarvest  o'er  the  land. 

Nor  less  thy  world,  Columbus,  drinks,  refrosh'd, 
The  lavish  moisture  of  the  melting  year. 
Wide  o'er  his  isles,  the  branching  Oronoque 
Rolls  a  brown  deluge  ;  and  the  native  drives 
To  dwell  aloft  on  life-sufficing  trees, 
At  once  his  dome,  his  robe,  his  food,  and  arms. 
Swell'd  by  a  thousand  streams,  im]>etuou8  hurl'. I 
From  all  the  roaring  Andes,  huge  desivmls 
Tin-  mighty  Orellana.t     Scarce  the  Muse 
Dares  stretch  her  wing  o'er  this  enormous  mass 
Of  rushing  water  ;  scarce  she  dares  attempt 
The  sea-like  Plata  ;  to  whose  diva.l  - •\]>an^i\ 
CoiitinuouM  depth,  Jiml  woiiiln.us  length  of  course, 
Our  floods  are  rills.     With  unabated  force, 

*  The  river  that  run*  through  Siam  ;  on  whose  banka  a  vast 
multitude  of  tho«e  insect*,  called  Fire  Plied,  make  a  beautiful 
appearance  in  the  night. 

t  The  river  of  the  Amiuoim. 


SUMMER.  89 

Iii  silent  dignity  they  sweep  along, 

And  traverse  realms  unknown,  and  blooming  wilds, 

And  fruitful  deserts,  worlds  of  solitude, 

Where  the  sun  smiles  and  seasons  teem  in  vain, 

Unseen,  and  unenjoy'd.     Forsaking  these, 

O'er  peopled  plains  they  fair-diffusive  flow, 

And  many  a  nation  feed,  and  circle  safe, 

In  their  soft  bosom,  many  a  happy  isle  ; 

The  seat  of  blameless  Pan,  yet  undisturb'd 

By  Christian  crimes  and  Europe's  cruel  sons. 

Thus  pouring  on  they  proudly  seek  the  deep, 

Whose  vanquish'd  tide,  recoiling  from  the  shock, 

Yields  to  the  liquid  weight  of  half  the  globe  ; 

And  Ocean  trembles  for  his  green  domain. 

But  what  avails  this  wondrous  waste  of  wealth  1 
This  gay  profusion  of  luxurious  bliss  ? 
This  pomp  of  Nature  ?  what  their  balmy  meads, 
Their  powerful  herbs,  and  Ceres  void  of  pain  ? 
By  vagrant  birds  dispers'd,  and  wafting  winds, 
What  their  implanted  fruits  ?  what  the  cool  draughts, 
Th'  ambrosial  food,  rich  gums,  and  spicy  health, 
Their  forests  yield  ?  their  toiling  insects  what, 
Their  silky  pride,  and  vegetable  robes  ? 
Ah  !  what  avail  their  fatal  treasures,  hid 
Deep  in  the  bowels  of  the  pitying  earth, 
Golconda's  gems,  and  sad  Potosi's  mines  ; 
Where  dwelt  the  gentlest  children  of  the  sun  ? 
What  all  that  Afric's  golden  rivers  roll, 
Her  odorous  woods,  and  shining  ivory  stores  ? 


90  TUB  SEASONS. 

Ill-fated  race  !  the  softening  arts  of  Peace, 
Whate'er  the  humanizing  Muses  teach  ; 
The  godlike  wisdom  of  the  temper'd  breast ; 
Progressive  truth,  the  patient  force  of  thought ; 
Investigation  calm,  whose  silent  powers 
Command  the  world  ;  the  light  that  leads  to  heaven  ; 
Kind  equal  rule,  the  government  of  laws, 
And  all-protecting  Freedom,  which  alone 
Sustains  the  name  and  dignity  of  man  : 
These  are  not  theirs.    The  parent-sun  himself 
Seems  o'er  this  world  of  slaves  to  tyrannize  ; 
And  with  oppressive  ray,  the  roseate  bloom 
Of  beauty  blasting,  gives  the  gloomy  hue, 
And  feature  gross  :  or  worse,  to  ruthless  deeds, 
Mad  jealousy,  blind  rage,  and  fell  revenge, 
Their  fervid  spirit  fires.     Love  dwells  not  there, 
The  soft  regards,  the  tenderness  of  life, 
The  heart-shed  tear,  th'  ineffable  delight 
Of  sweet  humanity  :  these  court  the  beam 
Of  milder  climes  ;  in  selfish  fierce  desire, 
And  the  wild  fury  of  voluptuous  sense, 
There  lost.    The  very  brute-creation  there 
This  rage  partakes,  and  burns  with  horrid  fire. 
Lo  I  the  green  serpent,  from  his  dark  abode, 
Which  even  Imagination  fears  to  tread, 
At  noon  forth-issuing,  gathers  up  his  train 
In  orbs  immense,  then,  darting  out  anew, 
Seeks  the  refreshing  fount ;  by  which  diffus'd, 
He  throws  his  folds ;  and  while,  with  threat'ning  tongue, 


SUMMER.  91 

And  deathful  jaws  erect,  the  monster  curls 

His  flaming  crest,  all  other  thirst  appall'd, 

Or  shivering  flies,  or  check'd  at  distance  stands, 

Nor  dares  approach.     But  still  more  direful  he, 

The  small  close-lurking  minister  of  fate, 

Whose  high- concocted  vemon  through  the  veins 

A  rapid  lightning  darts,  arresting  swift 

The  vital  current.     Form'd  to  humble  man, 

This  child  of  vengeful  Nature  !  there,  sublim'd 

To  fearless  lust  of  blood,  the  savage  race 

Roam,  licens'd  by  the  shading  hour  of  guilt, 

And  foul  misdeed,  when  the  pure  day  has  shut 

His  sacred  eye.     The  tiger  darting  fierce 

Impetuous  on  the  prey  his  glance  has  doom'd  : 

The  lively-shining  leopard,  speekled  o'er 

With  many  a  spot,  the  beauty  of  the  waste  ; 

And,  scorning  all  the  taming  arts  of  man, 

The  keen  hyena,  fellest  of  the  fell. 

These,  rushing  from  th'  inhospitable  woods 

Of  Mauritania,  or  the  tufted  isles 

That  verdant  rise  amid  the  Lybian  wild, 

Innumerous  glare  around  their  shaggy  king, 

Majestic,  stalking  o'er  the  printed  sand  ; 

And,  with  imperious  and  repeated  roars, 

Demand  their  fated  food.     The  fearful  flocks 

Crowd  near  the  guardian  swain  ;  the  nobler  herds, 

Where  round  their  lordly  bull,  in  rural  ease, 

They  ruminating  lie,  with  horror  hear 

The  coming  rage.     Th'  awaken'd  village  starts  ; 


92  THE  SEASONS. 

And  to  her  fluttering  breast  the  mother  strains 
Her  thoughtless  infant.     From  the  pirate's  den, 
Or  stern  Morocco's  tyrant  fang  escap'd, 
The  wretch  half-wishes  for  his  bouds  again  : 
While,  uproar  all,  the  wilderness  resounds, 
From  Atlas  eastward  to  the  frighted  Nile. 

Unhappy  he  !  who  from  the  first  of  joys, 
Society,  cut  off,  is  left  alone 
Amid  this  world  of  death.    Day  after  day, 
Sad  on  the  jutting  eminence  he  sits, 
And  views  the  main  tlxat  ever  toils  below  ; 
Still  fondly  forming  in  the  furthest  verge, 
"Where  the  round  ether  mixes  with  the  wave, 
Ships,  dim-discover'd,  dropping  from  the  clouds  ; 
At  evening,  to  the  setting  sun  he  turns 
A  mournful  eye,  and  down  his  dying  heart 
Sinks  helpless  ;  while  the  wonted  roar  is  up, 
And  hiss  continual  through  the  tedious  night. 
Yet  here,  ev'n  here,  into  these  black  alxxles 
Of  monsters,  uuappaU'd,  from  stooping  Rome, 
And  guilty  Caesar,  Liberty  retir'd, 
Her  Cato  following  through  Nuinidian  wilds  : 
Disdainful  of  Campania's  gentle  plains, 
And  all  the  green  delights  Ausonia  pouro  ; 
When  for  them  nhe  must  bend  the  servile  knee, 
A  n. I  fawning  take  the  splendid  robber's  boon. 

Nor  stop  the  terrors  of  these  regions  here. 
<  '«miiiiiH»*i«.n'd  di'inutiH  oft,  angels  of  wrath, 
I.,  t  U>M4>  the  raging  i-l.-nu-nts.     lircnth'd  hot 


SUMMER.  93 

From  all  the  boundless  furnace  of  the  sky, 

And  the  wide  glittering  waste  of  burning  sand, 

A  suffocating  wind  the  pilgrim  smites 

With  instant  death.     Patient  of  thirst  and  toil, 

Son  of  the  desert !  even  the  camel  feels, 

Shot  through  his  withered  heart  the  fiery  blast. 

Or  from  the  black -red  ether,  bursting  broad, 

Sallies  the  sudden  whirlwind.     Straight  the  sands, 

Commov'd  around,  in  gathering  eddies  play  : 

Nearer  and  nearer  still  they  darkening  come  ; 

Till,  with  the  general  all-involving  storm 

Swept  up,  the  whole  continuous  wilds  arise  : 

And  by  their  noon-day  fount  dejected  thrown, 

Or  sunk  at  night  in  sad  disastrous  sleep 

Beneath  descending  hills,  the  caravan 

Is  buried  deep.     In  Cairo's  crowded  streets, 

Th'  impatient  merchant,  wondering,  waits  in  vain, 

And  Mecca  saddens  at  the  long  delay. 

But  chief  at  sea,  whose  every  flexile  wave 
Obeys  the  blast,  the  aerial  tumult  swells. 
In  the  dread  ocean,  undulating  wide, 
Beneath  the  radiant  line  that  girts  the  globe, 
The  circling  Typhon,*  whirl'd  from  point  to  point, 
Exhausting  all  the  rage  of  all  the  sky, 
And  dire  Ecnephia*  reign.     Amid  the  heavens, 
Falsely  serene,  deep  in  a  cloudy  speck  t 

*  Typhon  and  Ecnephia,  names  of  particular  storms  or 
hurricanes,  known  only  between  the  tropics. 

t  Called  by  sailors  the  Ox-eye,  being  in  appearance  at  first 
no  bigger. 


94  THE    SEASONS. 

Compress'd,  the  mighty  tempest  brooding  dwells  : 

Of  no  regard,  aave  to  the  skilful  eye, 

Fiery  and  foul,  the  small  prognostic  hangs 

Aloft,  or  on  the  promontory's  brow 

Musters  its  force.    A  faint  deceitful  calm, 

A  fluttering  gale,  the  demon  sends  before, 

To  tempt  the  spreading  sail     Then  down  at  once, 

Precipitant,  descends  a  mingled  mass 

Of  roaring  winds,  and  flame,  and  rushing  floods. 

In  wild  amazement  fix'd  the  sailor  stands. 

Art  is  too  slow  :  by  rapid  fate  oppress'd, 

His  broad-winged  vessel  drinks  the  whelming  tide, 

Hid  in  the  bosom  of  the  black  abyss. 

With  such  mad  seas  the  daring  Gama*  fought, 

For  many  a  day,  and  many  a  dreadful  night, 

Incessant,  labouring  round  the  stormy  Cape  ; 

By  bold  ambition  led,  and  bolder  thirst 

Of  gold.     For  then  from  ancient  gloom  emergM 

Tin-  rising  world  of  trade  :  the  Genius,  then, 

Of  navigation,  that,  in  hopeless  sloth, 

Had  slumber'd  on  the  vast  Atlantic  deep, 

For  idle  ages,  starting,  heard  at  last 

The  Lusitanian  Prince  ;t  who,  Heav'n-inspir'd, 

To  love  of  useful  glory  rous'd  mankind, 

•  VMOO  de  Gama,  the  first  who  sailed  round  Africa  by  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope,  to  the  Eaat  Indie*. 

t  Don  Henry,  third  son  to  John  the  Fir»t,  King  of  Portugal. 
HU  strong  genius  to  the  discovery  of  new  countries  wa*  tin- 
chief  source  of  all  the  modern  improvements  in  navigation. 


SUMMER.  95 

And  in  unbounded  commerce  mix'd  the  world. 

Increasing  still  the  terrors  of  these  storms, 
His  jaws  horrific  arm'd  with  threefold  fate, 
Here  dwells  the  direful  shark.     Lur'd  by  the  scent 
Of  steaming  crowds,  of  rank  disease,  and  death, 
Behold  !  he  rushing  cuts  the  briny  flood, 
Swift  as  the  gale  can  bear  the  ship  along  ; 
And,  from  the  partners  of  that  cruel  trade, 
Which  spoils  unhappy  Guinea  of  her  sons, 
Demands  his  share  of  prey  ;  demands  themselves. 
The  stormy  fates  descend  :  one  death  involves 
Tyrants  and  slaves ;  when  straight,  their  mangled  limbs 
.Crashing  at  once,  he  dyes  the  purple  seas 
iWith  gore,  and  riots  in  the  vengeful  meal. 

When  o'er  this  world,  by  equinoctial  rains 
Flooded  immense,  looks  out  the  joyless  sun, 
And  draws  the  copious  steam  :  from  swampy  fens, 
Where  putrefaction  into  life  ferments, 
And  breathes  destructive  myriads  :  or  from  woods, 
Impenetrable  shades,  recesses  foul, 
In  vapours  rank  and  blue  corruption  wrapt, 
Whose  gloomy  horrors  yet  no  desperate  foot 
Has  ever  dar'd  to  pierce  ;  then,  wasteful,  forth 
Walks  the  dire  Power  of  pestilent  disease. 
A  thousand  hideous  fiends  her  course  attend, 
Sick  Nature  blasting,  and  to  heartless  woe, 
And  feeble  desolation,  casting  down 
The  towering  hopes  and  all  the  pride  of  Man. 
Such,  as  of  late,  at  Carthagena  quench'd 


96  nil.   SEASONS. 

The  British  fire.     You,  gallant  Veruoii,  saw 
The  miserable  scene  ;  you,  pitying,  saw 
To  infant- weakness  sunk  the  warrior's  arm  ; 
Saw  the  deep-racking  pang,  the  ghastly  form, 
The  lip  pale-quivering,  and  the  beamless  eye 
No  more  with  ardour  bright :  you  heard  the  groans 
Of  agonizing  ships,  from  shore  to  shore  ; 
Heard,  nightly  plungM  amid  the  sullen  waves, 
The  frequent  corse  ;  while  on  each  other  fix'd, 
In  sad  presage,  the  blank  assistants  seem'd, 
Silent,  to  ask,  whom  Fate  would  next  demand. 
What  need  I  mention  those  inclement  skies, 
Where,  frequent  o'er  the  sickening  city,  Plague, 
The  fiercest  child  of  Nemesis  divine, 
Descends  ?    From  Ethiopia's  poisoii'd  woods, 
From  stifled  Cairo's  filth,  and  fetid  fields 
With  locust-armies  putrifying  heap'd, 
This  threat  destroyer  sprung.     Her  awful  rage 
The  brutes  escape  :  Man  in  JUT  dcstin'd  pivv, 
Intemperate  Man  1  and,  o'er  his  guilty  domes, 
She  draws  a  close  incumbent  cloud  of  death  ; 
Uninterrupted  by  the  living  winds, 
Forbid  to  blow  a  wholesome  breeze  ;  and  stain'd 
With  many  a  mixture  by  the  sun,  sutfus'd, 
Of  angry  aspect.     Princely  wisdom,  thru, 
Dejects  his  watchful  eye  ;  and  from  the  hand 
Of  feeble  justice,  ineffectual,  drop 
Tin-  sword  and  balance  :  uiute  the  voice  of  joy, 
And  hunli'd  the  clamour  of  the  busy  world. 


SUMMER.  97 

Empty  the  streets,  with  uncouth  verdure  clad  ; 

Into  the  worst  of  deserts  sudden  turn'd 

The  cheerful  haunt  of  men  ;  unless  escap'd 

From  the  doom'd  house,  where  matchless  horror  reigns, 

Shut  up  by  barbarous  fear,  the  smitten  wretch, 

With  frenzy  wild,  breaks  loose;  and,  loud  to  Heaven 

Screaming,  the  dreadful  policy  arraigns, 

Inhuman,  and  unwise.     The  sullen  door, 

Yet  uninfected,  on  its  cautious  hinge 

Fearing  to  turn,  abhors  society  : 

Dependants,  friends,  relations,  Love  himself, 

Savag"d  by  woe,  forget  the  tender  tie, 

The  sweet  engagement  of  the  feeling  heart. 

But  vain  their  selfish  care  :  the  circling  sky, 

The  wide  enlivening  air  is  full  of  fate  ; 

And,  struck  by  turns,  in  solitary  pangs 

They  fall,  unblest,  untended,  and  unmourn'd. 

Thus  o'er  the  prostrate  city  black  Despair 

Extends  her  raven  wing  :  while,  to  complete 

The  scene  of  desolation,  stretch'd  around, 

The  grim  guards  stand,  denying  all  retreat, 

And  give  the  flying  wretch  a  better  death. 

Much  yet  remains  unsung :  the  rage  intense 
Of  brazen-vaulted  skies,  of  iron  fields, 
Where  drought  and  famine  starve  the  blasted  year  : 
Fir'd  by  the  torch  of  noon  to  tenfold  rage, 
Th'  infuriate  hill  that  shoots  the  pillar'd  flame  ; 
And,  rous'd  within  the  subterranean  world, 
Th1  expanding  earthquake,  that  resistless  shakes 


96  rn K  SEASONS. 

Aspiring  cities  from  their  solid  base, 
And  buries  mountains  in  the  flaming  gulf. 
But  'tis  enough  ;  return  my  vagrant  Muse  : 
A  nearer  scene  of  horror  calls  thee  home. 

Behold,  slow-settling  o'er  the  lurid  grove 
Unusual  darkness  broods  ;  and  growing  gains 
The  full  possession  of  the  sky,  surcharg'd 
With  wrathful  vapour,  from  the  secret  beds, 
Where  sleep  the  mineral  generations,  drawn. 
Thence  nitre,  sulphur,  and  the  fiery  spume 
Of  fat  bitumen,  steaming  on  the  day, 
With  various- tinctur'd  trains  of  latent  flame, 
Pollute  the  sky,  and  in  yon  baleful  cloud, 
A  reddening  gloom,  a  magazine  of  fate, 
Ferment ;  till,  by  the  touch  ethereal  rous'd, 
The  dash  of  clouds,  or  irritating  war 
Of  fighting  winds,  while  all  is  calm  below, 
They  furious  spring.     A  boding  silence  reigns, 
Dread  through  the  dun  expanse  ;  save  the  dull  sound 
That  from  the  mountain,  previous  to  the  storm, 
Rolls  o'er  the  muttering  earth,  disturbs  the  flood, 
And  shake*  the  forest-leaf  without  a  breath. 
Prone,  to  the  lowest  vale,  the  aerial  tribes 
Descend  :  the  tempest-loving  raven  scarce 
Darea  wing  the  dubious  dusk.     In  rueful  gaze 
The  cattle  stand,  and  on  the  scowling  heavens 
Gut  a  deploring  eye;  by  man  forsook, 
Who  to  the  crowded  cottage  hies  him  fast, 
Or  seeks  the  shelter  of  the  downward  cave. 


SUMMER.  99 

'Tis  listening  fear,  and  dumb  amazement  all : 
When  to  the  starled  eye  the  sudden  glance 
Appears  far  south,  eruptive  through  the  cloud  ; 
And  following  slower,  in  explosion  vast, 
The  Thunder  raises  his  tremendous  voice. 
At  first,  heard  solemn  o'er  the  verge  of  heaven, 
The  tempest  growls  ;  but  as  it  nearer  comes, 
And  rolls  its  awful  burden  on  the  wind, 
The  lightnings  flash  a  larger  curve,  and  more 
The  noise  astounds  :  till  over  head  a  sheet 
Of  livid  flame  discloses  wide  ;  then  shuts, 
And  opens  wider  ;  shuts  and  opens  still 
Expansive,  wrapping  ether  in  a  blaze. 
Follows  the  loosen'd  aggravated  roar, 
Enlarging,  deepening,  mingling  ;  peal  on  peal 
Crush'd  horrible,  convulsing  heaven  and  earth. 

Down  comes  a  deluge  of  sonorous  hail, 
Or  prone-descending  rain.     Wide-rent,  the  clouds 
Pour  a  whole  flood  ;  and  yet,  its  flame  unquench'd, 
Th'  unconquerable  lightning  struggles  through, 
Ragged  and  fierce,  or  in  red  whirling  balls, 
And  fires  the  mountains  with  redoubled  rage. 
Black  from  the  stroke,  above,  the  smould'ring  pine 
Stands  a  sad  shattered  trunk  ;  and  stretch'd  below, 
A  lifeless  group  the  blasted  cattle  lie  : 
Here  the  soft  flocks,  with  that  same  harmless  look 
They  wore  alive,  and  ruminating  still 
In  fancy's  eye  ;  and  there  the  frowning  bull, 
And  ox  half-rais'd.     Struck  on  the  castled  cliff, 


100  T1IK   SEASONS. 

The  venerable  tower  and  spiry  fane 
Resign  their  aged  pride.     The  gloomy  woods 
Start  at  the  flash,  and  from  their  deep  recess, 
Wide-flaming  out,  their  trembling  inmates  shake. 
Amid  Carnarvon's  mountains  rages  loud 
The  repercussive  roar  :  with  mighty  crush, 
Into  the  flashing  deep,  from  the  rude  rocks 
Of  Penmanmaur  heap'd  hideous  to  the  sky, 
Tumble  the  smitten  cliffs  ;  and  Snowden's  peak, 
Dissolving,  instant  yields  his  wintry  load. 
Far  seen,  the  heights  of  heathy  Cheviot  blaze, 
And  Thulft  bellows  through  her  utmost  isles. 

< ; uilt  hears  appall'd,  with  deeply  troubled  thought. 
And  yet  not  always  on  the  guilty  head 
Descends  the  fated  flash.     Young  Celadon 
And  his  Amelia  were  a  matchless  pair  ; 
With  equal  virtue  form'd,  and  equal  grace, 
The  same,  distinguish'd  by  their  sex  alone  : 
Hera  the  mild  lustre  of  the  blooming  morn, 
And  his  the  radiance  of  the  risen  day. 

They  lov'd  :  but  such  the  guileless  passion  was, 
As  in  the  dawn  of  time  inform'd  the  heart 
Of  innocence,  and  undissembling  truth. 
TWM  friendship,  heighten'd  by  the  mutual  wish, 
Th'  enchanting  hope,  and  sympathetic  glow, 
Beam'd  from  the  mutual  eye.     Devoting  all 
To  love,  each  was  to  each  a  dearer  self  ; 
Supremely  happy  in  th'  awaken'd  power 
Of  pivinj?  joy.    Alone,  amid  the  shades, 


SUMMKR.  101 

Still  in  harmonious  intercourse  they  liv'd 
The  rural  day,  and  talk'd  the  flowing  heart, 
Or  sigh'd  and  look'd  unutterable  things. 

So  pass'd  their  life,  a  clear  united  stream, 
By  care  unruffled  ;  till,  in  evil  hour, 
The  tempest  caught  them  on  the  tender  walk, 
Heedless  how  far  and  where  its  mazes  stray'd, 
While,  with  each  other  blest,  creative  love 
Still  bade  eternal  Eden  smile  around. 
Presaging  instant  fate  her  bosom  heav'd 
Unwonted  sighs,  and  stealing  oft  a  look 
Of  the  big  gloom,  on  Celadon  her  eye 
Fell  tearful,  wetting  her  disorder'd  cheek. 
In  vain  assuring  love,  and  confidence 
In  Heaven,  repress'd  her  fear  ;  it  grew,  and  shook 
Her  frame  near  dissolution.     He  perceiv'd 
Th'  unequal  conflict ;  and  as  angels  look 
On  dying  saints,  his  eyes  compassion  shed, 
With  love  illumin'd  high.     "  Fear  not,"  he  said, 
"  Sweet  innocence  !  thou  stranger  to  offence, 
And  inward  storm  !  He,  who  yon  skies  involves 
In  frowns  of  darkness,  ever  smiles  on  thee 
With  kind  regard.     O'er  thee  the  secret  shaft 
That  wastes  at  midnight,  or  th'  undreaded  hour 
Of  noon,  flies  harmless  :  and  that  very  voice, 
Which  thunders  terror  through  the  guilty  heart, 
With  tongues  of  seraphs  whispers  peace  to  thine. 
'Tis  safety  to  be  near  thee  sure,  and  thus 
To  clasp  perfection  ! "     From  his  void  embrace, 


102  THE  SEASONS. 

(Mysterious  Heaven  !)  that  moment,  to  the  ground, 
A  blackeu'd  corse,  was  struck  the  beauteous  maid. 
But  who  can  paint  the  lover,  as  he  stood, 
Pierc'd  by  severe  amazement,  hating  life, 
Speechless,  and  fix'd  in  all  the  death  of  woe  ! 
So,  faint  resemblance  !  on  the  marble  tomb, 
The  well-dissembled  mourner  stooping  stands, 
For  ever  silent  and  for  ever  sad. 

As  from  the  face  of  heaven  the  shatter'd  clouds 
Tumultuous  rove,  th'  interminable  sky 
Sublimer  swells,  and  o'er  the  world  expands 
A  purerazurel Through  the  lighten  *d  air 
A  higher  lustre  and  a  clearer  calm, 
Diffusive  tremble  ;  while,  as  if  in  sign 
Of  danger  past,  a  glittering  robe  of  joy, 
Set  off  abundant  by  the  yellow  ray, 
Invests  the  fields  ;  and  Nature  smiles  reviv'd. 

Tis  beauty  all,  and  grateful  song  around, 
Join'd  to  the  low  of  kine,  and  numerous  bleat 
Of  flocks  thick-nibbling  through  the  clover"d  vale. 
And  shall  the  hymn  be  marr'd  by  thankless  Man, 
Most-favour'd  !  who  with  voice  articulate 
Should  lead  the  chorus  of  this  lower  world  ; 
Shall  he,  so  soon  forgetful  of  the  Hand 
That  hush'd  the  thunder,  and  serenes  the  sky, 
Extinguish^!  feel  that  spark  the  tempest  wak'd, 
That  sense  of  powers  exceeding  far  his  own, 
Ere  yet  his  feeble  heart  has  lost  its  fears  ? 

Cheer"d  by  the  milder  beam,  the  sprightly  youth 


SUMMER.  103 

Speeds  to  the  well-known  pool,  whose  crystal  depth 

A  sandy  bottom  shows.     Awhile  he  stands 

Gazing  th'  inverted  landscape,  half  afraid 

To  meditate  the  blue  profound  below  ; 

Then  plunges  headlong  down  the  circling  flood. 

His  ebon  tresses  and  his  rosy  cheek 

Instant  emerge  ;  and  through  th'  obedient  wave, 

At  each  short  breathing  by  his  lip  repell'd, 

With  amis  and  legs  according  well,  he  makes, 

As  humour  leads,  an  easy- winding  path  ; 

While  from  his  polish'd  sides,  a  dewy  light 

Effuses  on  the  pleas'd  spectators  round. 

This  is  the  purest  exercise  of  health, 
The  kind  refresher  of  the  summer-heats  ; 
Nor  when  cold  Winter  keens  the  brightening  flood, 
Would  I  weak- shivering  linger  on  the  brink. 
Thus  life  redoubles,  and  is  oft  preserv'd, 
By  the  bold  swimmer,  in  the  swift  elapse 
Of  accident  disastrous.     Hence  the  limbs 
Knit  into  force ;  and  the  same  Roman  arm, 
That  rose  victorious  o'er  the  conquer'd  earth, 
First  learn'd,  while  tender,  to  subdue  the  wave. 
Even  from  the  body's  purity,  the  mind 
Receives  a  secret  sympathetic  aid. 

Close  in  the  covert  of  a  hazel  copse, 
Where  winded  into  pleasing  solitudes 
Runs  out  the  rambling  dale,  young  Damon  sat, 
Pensive,  and  pierc'd  with  love's  delightful  pangs. 
There  to  the  stream  that  down  the  distant  rocks 


104  THK  SEASONS. 

Hoarse-murmuring  fell,  and  plaintive  breeze  tliat  play'd 

Among  the  bending  willows,  falsely  he 

Of  Musidora's  cruelty  complain'd. 

She  felt  his  flame  ;  but  deep  within  her  breast 

In  bashful  coyness,  or  in  maiden  pride, 

The  soft  return  conceal'd  ;  save  when  it  stole 

In  sidelong  glances  from  her  downcast  eye, 

Or  from  her  swelling  soul  in  stifled  sighs. 

Touch'd  by  the  scene,  no  stranger  to  his  vows, 

He  fram'd  a  melting  lay,  to  try  her  heart ; 

And,  if  an  infant  passion  struggled  there, 

To  call  that  passion  forth.     Thrice  happy  swain  ! 

A  lucky  chance,  that  oft  decides Ttluffate 

Of  mighty  monarchs,  then  decided  thine. 

For  lo  !  conducted  by  the  laughing  Loves, 

This  cool  retreat  his  Musidora  sought: 

Warm  in  her  cheek  the  sultry  season  glow'd  ; 

And,  rob'd  in  loose  array,  she  came  to  bathe 

Her  fervent  limbs  in  the  refreshing  stream. 

What  shall  he  do  ?    In  sweet  confusion  lost, 

And  dubious  flutterings,  he  awhile  remain'd  : 

A  pure  ingenuous  elegance  of  soul, 

A  delicate  refinement,  known  to  few, 

Perplex'd  his  breast,  and  urg'd  him  to  retire  : 

But  love  forbade.     Ye  prudes  in  virtue,  say, 

Say,  ye  severest,  what  would  you  have  done  ? 

Meantime,  this  fairer  nymph  than  ever  blest 

Arcadian  stream,  with  timid  eye  around 

The  bank*  surveying,  stripp'd  her  Ixyuiteous  limbs, 


SUMMER.  105 

To  taste  the  lucid  coolness  of  the  flood. 

Ah  then  !  not  Paris  on  the  piny  top 

Of  Ida  panted  stronger,  when  aside 

The  rival-goddesses  the  veil  divine 

Cast  unconfin'd,  and  gave  him  all  their  charms, 

Than,  Damon,  thou  ;  as  from  the  snowy  leg, 

And  slender  foot,  th'  inverted  silk  she  drew  ; 

As  the  soft  touch  dissolv'd  the  virgin  zone  ; 

And,  through  the  parting  robe,  th'  alternate  breast, 

With  youth  wild-throbbing,  on  thy  lawless  gaze 

In  full  luxuriance  rose.     But,  desperate  youth, 

How  durst  thou  risk  the  soul-distracting  view  ; 

As  from  her  naked  limbs,  of  glowing  white, 

Harmonious  swell'd  by  Nature's  finest  hand, 

In  folds  loose-floating  fell  the  fainter  lawn  ; 

And  fair-expos'd  she  stood,  shrunk  from  herself, 

With  fancy  blushing,  at  the  doubtful  breeze 

Alarm'd,  and  starting  like  the  fearful  fawn  ? 

Then  to  the  flood  she  rush'd  ;  the  parted  flood 

Its  lovely  guest  with  closing  waves  receiv'd  ; 

And  every  beauty  softening,  every  grace 

Flushing  anew,  a  mellow  lustre  shed  : 

As  shines  the  lily  through  the  crystal  mild  ; 

Or  as  the  rose  amid  the  morning  dew, 

Fresh  from  Aurora's  hand,  more  sweetly  glows. 

While  thus  she  wanton'd,  now  beneath  the  wave 

But  ill-concealed  ;  and  now  with  streaming  locks 

That  half-embrac'd  her  in  a  humid  veil, 

Rising  again,  the  latent  Damon  drew 


106  THE  SEASONS. 

Such  mad'uing  draughts  of  beauty  to  the  soul, 

As  for  a  while  o'erwhelm'd  his  raptur'd  thought 

With  luxury  too-daring.     Check'd  at  last, 

By  loves  respectful  modesty,  he  deemed 

The  theft  profane,  if  aught  profane  to  love 

Can  e'er  be  deemed  ;  and,  struggling  from  the  shade, 

With  headlong  hurry  fled  :  but  first  these  lines, 

Trac'd  by  his  ready  pencil,  on  the  bank 

With  trembling  hand  he  threw : — "  Bathe  on,  my  fair 

Yet  unbeheld  save  by  the  sacred  eye 

Of  faitliful  love  :  I  go  to  guard  thy  haunt, 

To  keep  from  thy  recess  each  vagrant  foot, 

And  each  licentious  eye."    With  wild  surprise, 

As  if  to  marble  struck,  devoid  of  sense, 

A  stupid  moment  motionless  she  stood  : 

So  stands  the  statue*  that  enchants  the  world, 

So  bending  tries  to  veil  the  matchless  boast, 

The  mingled  beauties  of  exulting  Greece. 

Recovering,  swift  she  flew  to  find  those  robes 

Which  blissful  Eden  knew  not ;  and  array'.! 

In  careless  haute,  tli'  alarming  paper  suatch'd. 

But  when  her  Damon's  well-known  hand  she  saw, 

Her  terrors  vanish'd,  and  a  softer  train 

Of  mi  x  t  emotions,  hard  to  be  describ'd, 

Her  sudden  bosom  seiz'd  :  shame  void  of  guilt, 

The  charming  blush  of  innocence,  esteem, 

And  admiration  of  her  lover's  flame, 

By  modesty  exalted  :  even  a  sense 

*  The  Venus  of  Medici. 


SUMMER.  107 

Of  self -approving  beauty  stole  across 
Her  busy  thought.     At  length,  a  tender  calm 
Hush'd  by  degrees  the  tumult  of  her  soul ; 
And  on  the  spreading  beech,  that  o'er  the  stream 
Incumbent  hung,  she  with  the  sylvan  pen 
Of  rural  lovers  this  confession  carv'd, 
Which  soon  her  Damon  kiss'd  with  weeping  joy  : 
"  Dear  youth  !  sole  judge  of  what  these  verses  mean, 
By  fortune  too  much  favour'd,  but  by  love, 
Alas  !  not  favour'd  less,  be  still  as  now 
Discreet ;  the  time  may  come  you  need  not  fly." 
The  sun  has  lost  his  rage  :  his  downward  orb 
Shootsnothing  now  but  animating  warmth. 
And  vital  lustre  ;  that,  with  various  ray, 
Lights  up  the  clouds,  those  beauteous  robes  of  heaven, 
Incessant  roll'd  into  romantic  shapes, 
The  dream  of  waking  fancy  !  broad  below, 
Cover'd  with  ripening  fruits,  and  swelling  fast 
Into  the  perfect  year,  the  pregnant  earth 
And  all  her  tribes  rejoice.     Now  the  soft  hour 
Of  walking  comes  :  for  him  who  lonely  loves 
To  seek  the  distant  hills,  and  there  converse 
With  Nature  ;  there  to  harmonize  his  heart, 
And  in  pathetic  song  to  breathe  around 
The  harmony  to  others.     Social  friends, 
Attun'd  to  happy  unison  of  soul ; 
To  whose  exalting  eye  a  fairer  world, 
Of  which  the  vulgar  never  had  a  glimpse, 
Displays  its  charms  ;  whose  minds  are  richly  fraught 


108  THE   SEASONS. 

With  philosophic  stores,  superior  light ; 

And  in  whose  breast,  enthusiastic,  burns 

Virtue,  the  sons  of  interest  deem  romance  ; 

Now  call'd  abroad  enjoy  the  falling  day  : 

Now  to  the  verdant  Portico  of  woods, 

To  Nature's  vast  Lyceum,  forth  they  walk  ; 

By  that  kind  School  where  no  proud  master  reigns, 

The  full  free  converse  of  the  friendly  heart, 

Improving  and  improved.     Now  from  the  world, 

Sacred  to  sweet  retirement,  lovers  steal, 

And  pour  their  souls  in  transport,  which  the  Sire 

Of  love  approving  hears,  and  calls  it  good. 

Which  way,  Amanda,  shall  we  bend  our  course  ? 

The  choice  perplexes.     Wherefore  should  we  choose  ? 

All  is  the  same  with  thee.     Say,  shall  we  wind 

Along  the  streams  ?  or  walk  the  smiling  mead  ? 

Or  court  the  forest  glades  ?  or  wander  wild 

Among  the  waving  harvests  ?  or  ascend, 

While  radiant  Summer  o]>ens  all  its  pride, 

Thy  hill,  delightful  Shene  ?*    Here  let  us  sweep 

The  boundless  landscape  :  now  the  raptur'd  eye, 

Exulting  swift,  to  huge  Augusta  send, 

Now  to  the  fSister-IIills  that  skirt  her  plain, 

To  lofty  Harrow  now,  and  now  to  where 

Majestic  Windsor  lifts  his  princely  brow. 

In  lovely  contrast  to  this  glorious  view 

•  The  old  name  of  Richmond,  signifying  in  Saxon,  Shining, 
or  Splendour, 
t  Highgat*  and 


SUMMER.  109 

Calmly  magnificent,  then  will  we  turn 

To  where  the  silver  Thames  first  rural  grows. 

There  let  the  feasted  eye  unwearied  stray  : 

Luxurious,  there,  rove  through  the  pendent  woods 

That  nodding  hang  o'er  Harrington's  retreat ; 

And,  stooping  thence  to  Ham's  embowering  walks, 

Beneath  whose  shades,  in  spotless  peace  retired, 

With  Her  the  pleasing  partner  of  his  heart, 

The  worthy  Queensb'ry  yet  laments  his  Gray, 

And  polish'd  Cornbury  wooes  the  willing  Muse, 

Slow  let  us  trace  the  matchless  Vale  of  Thames  ; 

Fair-winding  up  to  where  the  Muses  haunt 

In  Twit'uam's  bowers,  and  for  their  Pope  implore 

The  healing  God  ;*  to  royal  Hampton's  pile, 

To  Clermout's  terrass'd  height,  and  Esher's  groves, 

Where  in  the  sweetest  solitude,  embrac'd 

By  the  soft  windings  of  the  silent  Mole, 

From  courts  and  senates  Pelham  finds  repose. 

Enchanting  vale  !  beyond  whate'er  the  Muse 

Has  of  Achaia  or  Hesperia  sung  ! 

O  vale  of  bliss  !  O  softly-swelling  hills  ! 

On  which  the  Power  of  Cultivation  lies, 

And  joys  to  see  the  wonders  of  his  toil. 

Heavens  !  what  a  goodly  prospect  spreads  around, 
Of  hills,  and  dales,  and  woods,  and  lawns,  and  spires, 
And  glittering  towns,  and  gilded  streams,  till  all 
The  stretching  landscape  into  smoke  decays  ! 
Happy  Britannia  !  where  the  Queen  of  Arts, 
*  In  his  last  sickness. 


110  THE   SEASONS. 

Inspiring  vigour,  Liberty  abroad 

Walks,  unconfin'd,  even  to  thy  farthest  cots 

And  scatters  plenty  with  unsparing  hand. 

Rich  is  thy  soil,  and  merciful  thy  clime  ; 
Thy  streams  unfailing  in  the  Summer's  drought ; 
Unmatch'd  thy  guardian-oaks  ;  thy  valleys  float 
With  golden  waves  :  and  on  thy  mountains  flocks 
Bleat  numberless  !  while,  roving  round  their  sides, 
Bellow  the  blackening  herds  in  lusty  droves. 
Beneath,  thy  meadows  glow,  and  rise  unquell'd 
Against  the  mower's  scythe.     On  every  hand 
Thy  villas  shine.    Thy  country  teems  with  wealth  ; 
And  property  assures  it  to  the  swain, 
Pleas'd,  and  unwearied,  in  his  guarded  toil. 

Full  are  thy  cities  with  the  sons  of  Art ; 
And  trade  and  joy,  in  every  busy  street, 
Mingling  are  heard  :  t-v'n  Drudgery  himself, 
As  at  the  car  he  sweats,  or  dusty  hews 
The  palace  stone,  looks  gay.     Thy  crowded  ports, 
Where  rising  masts  an  endless  prospect  yield, 
With  labour  burn,  and  echo  to  the  shouts 
Of  hurried  sailor,  as  he  hearty  waves 
His  last  adieu,  and  loosening  every  sheet, 
Resigns  the  spreading  vessel  to  the  wind. 

Bold,  firm,  and  graceful  are  thy  generous  youth, 
By  hardship  ainew'd,  and  by  danger  li  r'<  1, 
Scattering  the  nations  where  they  go  :  and  first 
Or  on  the  listed  plain,  or  stormy  seas. 
Mild  are  thy  glories  too,  as  o'er  the  plans 


SUMMER.  Ill 

Of  thriving  peace  thy  thoughtful  sires  preside  ; 
In  genuis,  and  substantial  learning  high  ; 
For  every  virtue,  every  worth  renown'd  ; 
Sincere,  plain-hearted,  hospitable,  kind  ; 
Yet  like  the  mustering  thunder  when  provok'd, 
The  dread  of  tyrants,  and  the  sole  resource 
Of  those  that  under  grim  oppression  groan. 

Thy  sons  of  Glory  many  !  Alfred  thine, 
In  whom  the  splendour  of  heroic  war, 
And  more  heroic  peace,  when  govern'd  well, 
Combine  ;  whose  hallow'd  name  the  Virtues  saint, 
And  his  own  Muses  love  ;  the  best  of  kings  ! 
With  him  thy  Edwards  and  thy  Henrys  shine, 
Names  dear  to  fame  ;  the  first  who  deep  impress'd 
On  haughty  Gaul  the  terror  of  thy  arms, 
That  awes  her  genius  still.     In  statesmen  thou, 
And  patriots,  fertile.    Thine  a  steady  More, 
Who,  with  a  generous  though  mistaken  zeal, 
Withstood  a  brutal  tyrant's  useful  rage, 
Like  Cato  firm,  like  Aristides  just, 
Like  rigid  Cincinnatus  nobly  poor, 
A  dauntless  soul  erect,  who  smiled  on  death. 
Frugal  and  wise,  a  Walsingham  is  thine, 
A  Drake,  who  made  thee  mistress  of  the  deep, 
And  bore  thy  name  in  thunder  round  the  world. 
Then  flam'd  thy  spirit  high  :  but  who  can  speak 
The  numerous  worthies  of  the  Maiden  Reign  ? 
In  Raleigh  mark  their  every  glory  mix'd  ; 
Raleigh,  the  scourge  of  Spain  !  whose  breast  with  all 


112  THE   SEASONS. 

The  sage,  the  patriot,  and  the  hero  burn'd, 

Nor  sunk  his  vigour,  when  a  coward-reign 

The  warrior  fetter'd,  and  at  last  resign'd, 

To  glut  the  vengeance  of  a  vanquish'd  foe. 

Then,  active  still  and  uurestrain'd,  his  mind 

Explor'd  the  vast  extent  of  ages  past, 

And  with  his  prison-hours  enrich'd  the  world  ; 

Yet  found  no  times,  in  all  the  long  research, 

So  glorious,  or  so  base,  as  those  he  proved, 

In  which  he  conquer'd,  and  in  which  he  bled. 

Nor  can  the  Muse  the  gallant  Sidney  pass, 

The  plume  of  war  1  with  early  laurels  crown'd, 

The  lover's  myrtle,  and  the  poet's  bay. 

A  Hampden  too  is  thine,  illustrious  land, 

Wise,  strenuous,  firm,  of  unsubmitting  soul, 

Who  steinm'd  the  torrent  of  a  downward  age 

To  slavery  prone,  and  bade  thee  rise  again, 

In  all  thy  native  pomp  of  freedom  bold. 

Bright,  at  his  call,  thy  Age  of  Men  effulg'd, 

Of  Men  on  whom  late  time  a  kindling  eye 

Shall  turn,  and  tyrants  tremble  while  they  read. 

Bring  every  sweetest  flower,  and  let  me  strew 

The  grave  where  Russell  lies  ;  whose  temper'd  blood 

With  calmest  cheerfulness  for  thee  resign'd, 

Stain'd  the  sad  annals  of  a  giddy  reign  ; 

Aiming  at  lawless  power,  though  meanly  sunk 

In  loose  inglorious  luxury.     With  him 

His  friend,  the  British  Ckssius,*  fearless  bled  ; 

*  Algernon  Sidney. 


SUMMER.  113 

Of  high  determin'd  spirit,  roughly  brave, 
By  ancient  learning  to  th'  enlighten'd  love 
Of  ancient  freedom  warm'd.     Fair  thy  renown 
In  awful  sages  and  in  noble  bards  ; 
Soon  as  the  light  of  dawning  Science  spread 
Her  orient  ray,  and  wak'd  the  Muses'  song. 
ThmeJs_a_jBacon ;  hapless  in  his  choice, 
Unfit  to  stand  the  civil  storin  of  state, 
And  through  the  smooth  barbarity  of  courts, 
With  firm  but  pliant  virtue,  forward  still 
To  urge  his  course :  him  for  the  studious  shade 
Kind  Nature  form'd,  deep,  comprehensive,  clear, 
Exact,  and  elegant :  in  one  rich  soul, 
Plato,  the  Stagy  rite,  and  Tully  join'd. 
The  great  deliverer  he  !  who  from  the  gloom 
Of  cloistered  monks,  and  jargon-teaching  schools, 
Led  forth  the  true  Philosophy,  there  long 
Held  in  the  magic  chain  of  words  and  forms, 
And  definitions  void  :  he  led  her  forth, 
Daughter  of  Heaven  !  that  slow-ascending  still, 
Investigating  sure  the  chain  of  things, 
With  radiant  finger  points  to  heaven  again. 
The  generous  Ashley*  thine,  the  friend  of  man  ; 
Who  scami'd  his  nature  with  a  brother's  eye, 
His  weakness  prompt  to  shade,  to  raise  his  aim, 
To  touch  the  finer  movements  of  the  mind, 
And  with  the  moral  beauty  charm  the  heart. 
Why  need  I  name  thy  Boyle,  whose  pious  search 
*  Anthony  Ashley  Cooper,  Earl  of  Shaf  tesbury. 


114  THE  SEASON'S. 

Amid  the  dark  recesses  of  his  works, 

The  great  Creator  sought  ?    And  why  thy  Locke, 

"Who  made  the  whole  internal  world  his  own? 

Let  Newton,  pure  intelligence,  whom  GOD 

To  mortals  lent,  to  trace  his  boundless  works 

From  laws  sublimely  simple,  speak  thy  fame 

In  all  philosophy.     For  lofty  sense, 

Creative  fancy,  and  inspection  keen 

Through  the  deep  windings  of  the  human  heart, 

Is  not  wild  Shaks]>eare  thine  and  Nature's  boast  ? 

Is  not  each  great,  each  amiable  Muse 

Of  classic  ages  in  thy  Milton  met  ? 

A  genius  universal  as  his  theme  ; 

Astonishing  as  chaos,  as  the  bloom 

Of  blowing  Eden  fair,  as  heaven  sublime  ! 

Nor  shall  my  verse  that  elder  bard  forget, 

The  gentle  Spenser,  Fancy's  pleasing  son  ; 

Who,  like  a  copious  river,  pour'd  his  song 

O'er  all  the  mazes  of  enchanted  ground  : 

Nor  thee,  his  ancient  master,  laughing  sage, 

Chaucer,  whose  native  manners-painting  verse, 

Well-moraliz'd,  shines  through  the  gothic  cloud 

Of  time  and  language  o'er  thy  genius  thrown. 

May  my  song  soften,  as  thy  daughters  I, 
Britannia,  hail !  for  beauty  is  their  own, 
The  feeling  heart,  simplicity  of  life, 
And  elegance  and  taste  :  the  faultless  form 
Shap'd  by  the  hnnd  of  harmony  ;  the  cheek, 
\\  h,  re  the  live  crimson,  through  the  native  whiti- 


SUMMER.  115 

Soft-shooting,  o'er  the  face  diffuses  bloom, 
And  every  nameless  grace  ;  the  parted  lip, 
Like  the  red  rose-bud  moist  with  morning  dew, 
Breathing  delight ;  and,  under  flowing  jet, 
Or  sunny  ringlets,  or  of  circling  brown, 
The  neck  slight-shaded,  and  the  swelling  breast : 
The  look  resistless,  piercing  to  the  soul, 
And  by  the  soul  inform'd,  when  drest  in  love 
She  sits  high-smiling  in  the  conscious  eye. 

Island  of  bliss  !  amid  the  subject  seas, 
That  thunder  round  thy  rocky  coasts,  set  up, 
At  once  the  wonder,  terror,  and  delight, 
Of  distant  nations  ;  whose  remotest  shores 
Can  soon  be  shaken  by  thy  naval  arm ; 
Not  to  be  shook  thyself,  but  all  assaults 
Baffling,  as  thy  hoar  cliffs  the  loud  sea-wave. 

O  Thou  !  by  whose  almighty  nod  the  scale 
Of  empire  rises,  or  alternate  falls, 
Send  forth  the  saving  Virtues  round  the  land, 
In  bright  patrol :  white  Peace,  and  social  Love  ; 
The  tender-looking  Charity,  intent 
On  gentle  deeds,  and  shedding  tears  through  smiles  ; 
Undaunted  Truth,  and  Dignity  of  mind  : 
Courage  compos'd,  and  keen  ;  sound  Temperance, 
Healthful  in  heart  and  look  ;  clear  Chastity, 
With  blushes  reddening  as  she  moves  along, 
Disorder'd  at  the  deep  regard  she  draws  ; 
Rough  Industry  ;  Activity  untir'd, 
With  copious  life  inform'd,  and  all  awake  : 


116  THE  SEASONS. 

While  in  the  radiant  front,  superior  shines, 
That  first  paternal  virtue,  Public  Zeal ; 
Who  throws  o'er  all  an  equal  wide  survey, 
And,  ever  musing  on  the  commonweal, 
Still  labours  glorious  with  some  great  design. 

Low  walks  the  sun,  and  broadens  by  degrees, 
Just  o'er  the  verge  of  day.    The  shifting  clouds 
Assembled  gay,  a  richly-gorgeous  train 
In  all  their  pomp  attend  his  setting  throne. 
Air,  earth,  and  ocean  smile  immense.     And  now, 
As  if  his  weary  chariot  sought  the  bowers 
Of  A  in) .hit  Ht  i',  and  her  tending  nymphs, 
(So  Grecian  fable  sung)  he  dips  his  orb  ; 
Now  half-immers'd  ;  and  now  a  golden  curve 
Gives  one  bright  glance,  then  total  disappears. 

For  ever  running  an  enchanted  round, 
Passes  the  day,  deceitful,  vain,  and  void ; 
AH  fleets  the  vision  o'er  the  formful  brain, 
This  moment  hurrying  wild  th*  ini]>a88ion'd  soul, 
The  next  in  nothing  lost.     'Tis  so  to  him, 
Tin-  dreamer  of  this  earth,  an  idle  blank  : 
A  sight  of  horror  to  the  cruel  wretch, 
Who  all  day  long  in  sordid  pleasure  roll'd, 
Himself  an  useless  load,  has  squander^!  vile, 
I'IMHI  his  scoundrel  train,  what  might  have  cheerM 
A  drooping  family  of  modest  worth. 
Hut  to  the  generous  still-improving  mind, 
That  gives  the  hope-lew  heart  to  sing  for  joy, 

kiln I   l.rm  lirrli.  <    ;il<. 1111(1, 


SUMMER.  117 

Boastless,  as  now  descends  the  silent  clew  ; 
To  him  the  long  review  of  order'd  life 
Is  inward  rapture,  only  to  be  felt. 

Confess'd  from  yonder  slow-extinguish'd  clouds, 
All  ether  softening,  sober  Evening  takes 
Her  wonted  station  in  the  middle  air  ; 
A  thousand  shadows  at  her  beck.     First  this 
She  sends  on  earth  ;  then  that  of  deeper  dye 
Steals  soft  behind  ;  and  then  a  deeper  still, 
In  circle  following  circle,  gathers  round, 
To  close  the  face  of  things.     A  fresher  gale 
Begins  to  wave  the  wood,  and  stir  the  stream, 
Sweeping  with  shadowy  gust  the  fields  of  corn  ; 
While  the  quail  clamours  for  his  running  mate. 
Wide  o'er  the  thistly  lawn,  as  swells  the  breeze, 
A  whitening  shower  of  vegetable  down 
Amusive  floats.     The  kind  impartial  care 
Of  Nature  nought  disdains  :  thoughtful  to  feed 
Her  lowest  sons,  and  clothe  the  coming  year, 
From  field  to  field  the  feather'd  seeds  she  wings. 

His  folded  flock  secure,  the  shepherd  home 
Hies,  merry-hearted  ;  and  by  turns  relieves 
The  ruddy  milk-maid  of  her  brimming  pail  ; 
The  beauty  whom  perhaps  his  witless  heart, 
Unknowing  what  the  joy-mixt  anguish  means, 
Sincerely  loves,  by  that  best  language  shown 
Of  cordial  glances,  and  obliging  deeds. 
Onward  they  pass,  o'er  many  a  panting  height, 
And  valley  sunk,  and  unfrequented  ;  where 


118  THE   SEASONS. 

At  fall  of  eve  the  fairy  people  throng, 

In  various  game,  an*d  revelry,  to  pass 

The  summer  night,  as  village  stories  tell. 

But  far  about  they  wander  from  the  grave 

Of  him,  whom  his  ungentle  fortune  urg'd 

Against  his  own  sad  breast  to  lift  the  hand 

Of  impious  violence.     The  lonely  tower 

Is  also  shunn'd  ;  whose  mournful  chambers  hold, 

So  night-struck  Fancy  dreams,  the  yelling  ghost. 

Among  the  crooked  lanes,  on  every  hedge, 
The  glow-worm  lights  his  gem  ;  and  through  the  dark, 
A  moving  radiance  twinkles.     Evening  yields 
The  world  to  Night :  not  in  her  winter-robe 
Of  massy  stygian  woof,  but  loose  array'd 
In  mantle  dun.     A  faint  erroneous  ray, 
Glanc'd  from  th'  imperfect  surfaces  of  things, 
Flings  half  an  image  on  the  straining  eye  ; 
While  wavering  woods,  and  villages,  and  streams, 
And  rocks,  and  mountain-top;},  that  long-retain'd 
Tin-  ascending  gleam,  are  all  one  swimming  scene, 
Uncertain  if  beheld.     Sudden  to  heaven 
Thence  weary  vision  turns  ;  where  leading  soft 
The  silent  hours  of  love,  with  purest  ray 
Sweet  Venus  shines;  and  from  her  genial  rise, 
When  day-light  sickens  till  it  springs  afresh, 
Unrival'd  reigns,  the  fairest  lamp  of  Night. 
As  thus  th'  cirul^i'iuv  tivinulouH  I  drink, 
Wiili  cheriah'd  gaze,  the  lambent  lightnings 
Across  the  sky  ;  or  horizontal  dart 


SUMMER.  119 

In  wondrous  shapes  :  by  fearful  murmuring  crowds, 

Portentous  deem'd.     Amid  the  radiant  orbs, 

That  more  than  deck,  that  animate  the  sky, 

The  life-infusing  suns  of  other  worlds  ; 

Lo  !  from  the  dread  immensity  of  space 

Eeturning,  with  accelerated  course, 

The  rushing  comet  to  the  sun  descends  ; 

And  as  he  sinks  below  the  shading  earth, 

With  awful  train  projected  o'er  the  heavens, 

The  guilty  nations  tremble.     But,  above 

Those  superstitious  horrors  that  enslave 

The  fond  sequacious  herd,  to  mystic  faith 

And  blind  amazement  prone,  th'  enlighten'd  few, 

Whose  godlike  minds  Philosophy  exalts. 

The  glorious  stranger  hail.     They  feel  a  joy. 

Divinely  great ;  they  in  their  powers  exult, 

That  wondrous   force  of  thought,  which   mounting 

spurns 

This  dusky  spot,  and  measures  all  the  sky  ; 
While,  from  his  far  excursion  through  the  wilds 
Of  barren  ether,  faithful  to  his  time, 
They  see  the  blazing  wonder  rise  anew, 
In  seeming  terror  clad,  but  kindly  bent 
To  work  the  will  of  all-sustaining  Love  ; 
From  his  huge  vapoury  train  perhaps  to  shake 
Reviving  moisture  on  the  numerous  orbs, 
Through  which  his  long  ellipsis  winds  ;  perhaps 
To  lend,  new  fuel  to  declining  suns, 
To  light  up  worlds,  and  feed  th'  eternal  fire. 


120  THE  SEASONS. 

With  jihee,  serene  Philosopliy^with  jheg» 
And  thy  bright  garland,  let  me  crown  my  song  ! 
Effusive  source  of  evidence,  and  truth  ! 
A  lustre  shedding  o'er  the  ennobled  mind, 
Stronger  than  summer-noon  ;  and  pure  as  that, 
Whose  mild  vibrations  sooth  the  parted  soul, 
New  to  the  dawning  of  celestial  day. 
Hence  through  her  nourish 'd  powers,  enlarg'd  by  thee, 
She  springs  aloft,  with  elevated  pride, 
Above  the  tangling  mass  of  low  desii*es, 
That  bind  the  fluttering  crowd  ;  and,  angel-wingM, 
The  heights  of  science  and  of  virtue  gains, 
Where  all  is  calm  and  clear ;  with  Nature  round, 
Or  in  the  starry  regions,  or  th'  abyss, 
To  Reason's  and  to  Fancy's  eye  display'd  : 
The  first  uj^tracing,  from  the  dreary  void, 
The  chain  of  causes  and  effects  to  HIM, 
The  world-producing  Essence,  who  alone 
Possesses  being  ;  while  the  Last  receives 
The  whole  magnificence  of  heaven  and  earth, 
And  every  beauty,  delicate  or  bold, 
Obvious  or  more  remote,  with  livelier  sense, 
Diffusive  ])ainted  on  the  rapid  mind. 

TutorM  by  thee,  hence  Poetry  exalts 
Her  voice  to  ages  ;  and  informs  the  page 
With  music,  image,  sentiment,  and  thought, 

t"  die  !  the  treasure  of  mankind  ! 
Their  highest  honour,  and  their  truest  joy  ! 

Without  thee  what  were  unciili^liteu'd  Man  '. 


SUMMER.  121 

A  savage  roaming  through  the  woods  and  wilds, 

In  quest  of  prey  ;  and  with  the  unfashion'd  fur 

Rough-clad  ;  devoid  of  every  finer  art, 

And  elegance  of  life.     Nor  happiness 

Domestic,  mix'd  of  tenderness  and  care, 

Nor  moral  excellence,  nor  social  bliss, 

Nor  guardian  law  were  his  ;  nor  various  skill 

To  turn  the  furrow,  or  to  guide  the  tool 

Mechanic  ;  nor  the  heaven-conducted  prow 

Of  Navigation  bold,  that  fearless  braves 

The  burning  line  or  dares  the  wintry  pole  ; 

Mother  severe  of  infinite  delights ! 

Nothing,  save  rapine,  indolence,  and  guile, 

And  woes  on  woes,  a  still-revolving  train  ! 

Whose  horrid  circle  had  made  human  life 

Than  non-existence  worse  :  but,  taught  by  thee, 

Ours  are  the  plans  of  policy  and  peace  ; 

To  live  like  brothers,  and  conjunctive  all 

Embellish  life.     While  thus  laborious  crowds! 

Ply  the  tough  oar,  Philosophy  directs 

The  ruling  helm  ;  or  like  the  liberal  breath 

Of  potent  heaven,  invisible,  the  sail 

Swells  out,  and  bears  th'  inferior  world  along. 

Nor  to  this  evanescent  speck  of  earth 
Poorly  confin'd,  the  radiant  tracts  on  high 
Are  her  exalted  range ;  intent  to  gaze 
Creation  through  ;  and,  from  that  full  complex 
Of  never-ending  wonders  to  conceive 
Of  the  SOLE  BKING  right,  who  spoke  the  Word, 


122  THE   SEASONS. 

And  Nature  ruov'd  complete.     With  inward  view, 
Thence  on  th'  ideal  kingdom  swift  she  turns 
Her  eye  ;  and  instant  at  her  powerful  glance, 
Th'  obedient  phantoms  vanish  or  appear ; 
Compound,  divide,  and  into  order  shift, 
Each  to  his  rank,  from  plain  perception  up 
To  the  fair  forms  of  Fancy's  fleeting  train  : 
To  reason  then,  deducing  truth  from  truth  ; 
And  notion  quite  abstract ;  when  first  begins 
The  world  of  spirits,  action  all,  and  life 
Uufetter'd,  and  unmix t.     But  here  the  cloud 
(So  wills  Eternal  Providence)  sits  deep. 
Enough  for  us  to  know  that  this  dark  state, 
In  \vay\vanl  passions  lost  :uul  vain  pursuits, 
This  infancy  of  Hcin-,',  cannot  prove 
The  final  issue  of  the  works  of  God, 
By  boundless  Love  and  perfect  Wisdom  form'd, 
And  ever  rising  with  the  rising  mjpH. 


AUTUMN. 


THE  subject  proposed.  Addressed  to  Mr.  Onslow.  A  pros- 
pect of  the  fields  ready  for  harvest.  Eeflections  in  praise  of 
Industry  raised  by  that  view.  Reaping.  A  tale  relative  to 
it.  An  harvest  storm.  Shooting  and  hunting,  their  bar- 
barity. A  ludicrous  account  of  fox-hunting.  A  view  of  an 
orchard.  "Wall-fruit.  A  vineyard.  A  description  of  fogs, 
frequent  in  the  latter  part  of  Autumn  :  whence  a  digression, 
inquiring  into  the  rise  of  fountains  and  rivers.  Birds  of 
season  considered,  that  now  shift  their  habitation.  The 
prodigious  number  of  them  that  cover  the  northern  and 
western  isles  of  Scotland.  Hence  a  view  of  the  country. 
A  prospect  of  the  discoloured,  fading  woods.  After  a  gentle 
dusky  day,  moonlight.  Autumnal  meteors.  Morning :  to 
which  succeeds  a  calm,  pure,  sun-shiny  day,  such  as  usually 
shuts  up  the  season.  The  harvest  being  gathered  in,  the 
country  dissolved  in  joy.  The  whole  concludes  with  a 
panegyric  on  a  philosophical  country  life. 


AUTUMN. 


CROWN*!)  with  the  sickle  and  the  wheaten  sheaf, 
While  AUTUMN,  nodding  o'er  the  yellow  plain, 
Comes  jovial  on  ;  the  Doric  reed  once  more, 
Well-pleas'd,  I  tune.    Whate'er  the  wintry  frost 
Nitrous  prepared  ;  the  various-blossom'd  Spring 
Put  in  white  promise  forth  ;  and  Summer-suns 
Concocted  strong,  rush  boundless  now  to  view, 
Full,  perfect  all,  and  swell  my  glorious  theme. 
Onslow  !  the  Muse,  ambitious  of  thy  name, 
Tii  j^niiVj  inspirr,  and  di^njfy  hrr  Jjuiij:, 
Would  from  the  public  voice  thy  gentle  ear 
Awhile  engage.    Thy  noble  cares  she  knows, 
The  patriot  virtues  that  distend  thy  thought, 
Spread  on  thy  front,  and  in  thy  bosom  glow  ; 
While  listening  senates  hang  upon  thy  tongiu  , 
Devolving  through  the  maze  of  eloquence 
A  roll  of  periods,  sweeter  tlian  her  song. 
But  she  too  pants  for  public  virtue,  she, 
Though  weak  of  power,  yet  strong  in  ardent  will, 
Whene'er  her  country  rushes  on  her  heart, 
Assumes  a  bolder  note,  and  fondly  t 
To  mix  the  patriot's  with  the  |K>et's  flame 


By  strong Wecefsitys  supreme  command, 
TVith  smiling  patimc  e  in  "her  loots .  sh-p  "went 
To  gleaii  Falenioiis  fields. 


ATJT 


BY  RICHARD  WKSTAJ.1..K  A. T-.NCRAVET)    BY  JOHN  BOMNKA" 


AUTUMK.  125 

When  the  bright  Virgin  gives  the  beauteous  days, 
And  Libra  weighs  in  equal  scales  the  year  ; 
From  heaven's  high  cope  the  fierce  effulgejjce_shook 
Of  parting  Summer,  a  serener  blue, 
With  golden  light  enliven'd,  wide  invests 
The  happy  world.     Attemper'd  suns  arise, 
Sweet-beamed,  and  shedding  oft  through  lucid  clouds 
A  pleasing  calm  ;  while  broad,  and  brown,  below 
Extensive  harvests  hang  the  heavy  head. 
Rich,  silent,  deep,  they  stand  ;  for  not  a  gale 
Rolls  its  light  billows  o'er  the  bending  plain  : 
A  calm  of  plenty !  till  the  ruffled  air 
Falls  from  its  poise,  and  gives  the  breeze  to  blow. 
Rent  is  the  fleecy  mantle  of  the  sky  : 
The  clouds  fly  different ;  and  the  sudden  sun 
By  fits  effulgent  gilds  th'  illumin'd  field, 
And  black  by  fits  the  shadows  sweep  along. 
A  gaily -chequer'd  heart-expanding  view, 
Far  as  the  circling  eye  can  shoot  around, 
Unbounded  tossing  in  a  flood  of  corn. 

These  are  thy  blessings,  Industry  !  rough  power  ! 
Whom  labour  still  attends,  and  sweat  and  pain  ; 
Yet  the  kind  source  of  every  gentle  art, 
And  all  the  soft  civility  of  life  : 
Raiser  of  humankind  !  by  Nature  cast, 
Naked,  and  helpless,  out  amid  the  woods 
And  wilds,  to  rude  inclemeut  elements  ; 
With  various  seeds  of  art  deep  in  the  mind 
Implanted,  and  profusely  pourVl  around, 


126  THK   SEASONS. 

Materials  infinite  ;  but  idle  all. 
Still  unexerted,  in  the  unconscious  breast, 
Slept  the  lethargic  powers ;  Corruption  still, 
Voracious,  swallow'd  what  the  liberal  hand 
Of  bounty  scattered  o'er  the  savage  year  : 
And  still  the  sad  barbarian,  roving,  rnix'd 
With  beasts  of  prey  ;  or  for  his  acorn-meal 
Fought  the  fierce  tusky  boar  ;  a  shivering  wretch 
Aghast  and  comfortless,  when  the  bleak  north, 
With  Winter  charg'd,  let  the  mix'd  tempest  fly, 
Hail,  rain,  and  snow,  and  bitter-breathing  frost : 
Then  to  the  shelter  of  the  hut  he  fled  ; 
And  the  wild  season,  sordid,  pin'd  away. 
For  home  he  had  not ;  home  is  the  resort 
Of  love,  of  joy,  of  peace  and  plenty,  where, 
Supporting  and  supported,  polish'd  friends, 
And  dear  relations,  mingle  into  bliss. 
But  this  the  rugged  savage  never  felt, 
Ev'n  desolate  in  crowds  ;  and  thus  his  days 
Roll'd  heavy,  dark,  and  unenjoy'd  along  : 
A  waste  of  time  !  till  Industry  approach'd, 
And  rous'd  him  from  his  miserable  sloth  ; 
His  faculties  unfolded  ;  pointed  out, 
Where  lavish  Nature  the  directing  ha  ml 
Of  Art  demanded  ;  show'd  him  how  to  raise 
His  feeble  force  by  the  mechanic  powers, 
To  dig  the  mineral  fn>m  tin   vaulted  earth  ; 
On  what  to  turn  the  pioiving  nige  of  fire  ; 
On  what  tin-  l..nvnt,  ami  tin-  Lratli.-nl  l.last  ; 


AUTUMN.  1 27 

Gave  the  tall  ancient  forest  to  his  axe  : 
Taught  him  to  chip  the  wood,  and  hew  the  stone, 
Till  by  degrees  the  finish'd  fabric  rose  ; 
Tore  from  his  limbs  the  blood-polluted  fur, 
And  wrapt  them  in  the  woolly  vestment  warm, 
Or  bright  in  glossy  silk,  and  flowing  lawn  ; 
With  wholesome  viands  fill'd  his  table  ;  pour'd 
The  generous  glass  around,  inspir'd  to  wake 
The  life-refining  soul  of  decent  wit : 
Nor  stopp'd  at  barren  bare  necessity  ; 
But  still  advancing  bolder,  led  him  on 
To  pomp,  to  pleasure,  elegance,  and  grace  ; 
And,  breathing  high  ambition  through  his  soul, 
Set  science,  wisdom,  glory,  in  his  view, 
And  bade  him  be  the  Lord  of  all  below. 

Then  gathering  men  their  natural  powers  combin'd  , 
And  form'd  a  Public  ;  to  the  general  good 
Submitting,  aiming,  and  conducting  all. 
For  this  the  Patriot-Council  met,  the  full, 
The  free,  and  fairly  represented  Whole  ; 
For  this  they  plann'd  the  holy  guardian  laws, 
Distinguish 'd  orders,  animated  arts, 
And  with  joint  force  Oppression  chaining,  set 
Imperial  Justice  at  the  helm  ;  yet  still 
To  them  accountable  :  nor,  slavish,  dream 'd 
That  toiling  millions  must  resign  their  weal, 
And  all  the  honey  of  their  search,  to  such 
As  for  themselves  alone  themselves  have  rais'd. 

Hence  every  form  of  cultivated  life 


128  THE  SEASON'S. 

In  order  set,  protected,  and  inspir'd, 
Into  perfection  wrought.     Uniting  all, 
Society  grew  numerous,  high,  polite, 
And  happy.     Nurse  of  art !  the  city  rearM 
In  beauteous  pride  her  tower-encircled  head  ; 
And,  stretching  street  on  street,  by  thousands  drew, 
From  twining  woody  haunts,  or  the  tough  yew 
To  bows  strong-straining,  her  aspiring  sons. 

Then  Commerce  brought  into  the  public  walk 
The  busy  mercliant ;  the  big  warehouse  built ; 
Rais'd  the  strong  crane  ;  chok'd  up  the  loaded  street 
With  foreign  plenty  ;  and  thy  stream,  O  Thames, 
Large,  gentle,  deep,  majestic,  king  of  floods  ! 
Chose  for  his  grand  resort.     On  either  hand, 
Like  a  long  wintry  forest,  groves  of  masts 
Shot  up  their  spires  :  the  bellying  sheet  between 
Possessed  the  breezy  void  :  the  sooty  hulk 
Si i-cr'i  1  sluggish  on  ;  the  splendid  barge  along 
Row'd,  regular,  to  harmony  ;  around, 
Tin-  boat,  light-skimming,  stretch'd  its  oary  wings  ; 
While  deep  the  various  voice  of  fervent  toil 
From  bank  to  bank  iucreaa'd ;  whence  ribb'd  with  oak. 
To  bear  the  British  thunder,  black,  and  bold, 
The  roaring  vessel  rush'd  into  the  nuin. 

Then  too  the  pillurM  dome,  magnific,  heav'd 
Its  ample  roof  ;  and  Luxury  within 
PourM  out  her  glitt'riug  stores  :  the  canvas  smooth, 
With  glowing  life  protuberant,  to  the  view 
KinlMidip<l  rose  ;  the  statue  seem'.!  t«> 


AUTUMN.  129 

And  soften  into  flesh,  beneath  the  touch 
Of  forming  art,  imagination  flush'd. 
All  is  the  gift  of  Industry  ;  whate'er 

Exalts,  embe^liahpp,  and  rqiifWa  b'fp 

Delightful.     Pensive  Winter  cheer'd  by  him 

Sits  at  the  social  fire,  and  happy  hears 

Th'  excluded  tempest  idly  rave  along  ; 

His  harden'd  fingers  deck  the  gaudy  Spring  ; 

Without  him  Summer  were  an  arid  waste  ; 

Nor  to  the  Autumnal  months  could  thus  transmit 

Those  full,  mature,  immeasurable  stores, 

That,  waving  round,  recall  my  wandering  song. 

Soon  as  the  morning  trembles  o'er  the  sky, 
And,  unperceiv'd,  unfolds  the  spreading  day  ; 
Before  the  ripen'd  field  the  reapers  stand, 
In  fair  array  ;  each  by  the  lass  he  loves, 
To  bear  the  rougher  part,  and  mitigate 
By  nameless  gentle  offices  her  toil. 
At  once  they  stoop  and  swell  the  lusty  sheaves  ; 
While  through  their  cheerful  baud  the  rural  talk, 
The  rural  scandal,  and  the  rural  jest, 
Fly  harmless,  to  deceive  the  tedious  time, 
And  steal  unfelt  the  sultry  hours  away. 
Behind  the  master  walks,  builds  up  the  shocks ; 
And,  conscious,  glancing  oft  on  every  side 
His  sated  eye,  feels  his  heart  heave  with  joy. 
The  gleaners  spread  around,  and  here  and  there, 
Spike  after  spike,  their  scanty  harvest  pick. 
Be  not  too  narrow,  husbandmen  !  but  fling 


130  THE   SEASON'S. 

From  the  full  sheaf,  with  charitable  stealth, 
The  liberal  handful.    Think,  oh  grateful  think  ! 
How  good  the  God  of  Harvest  is  to  you  ; 
Who  pours  abundance  o'er  your  flowing  fields  ; 
While  these  unhappy  partners  of  your  kind 
Wide-hover  round  you,  like  the  fowls  of  heaven, 
And  ask  their  humble  dole.     The  various  turns 
Of  fortune  ponder  ;  that  your  sous  may  want 
What  now,  with  hard  reluctance,  faint,  ye  give. 

The  lovely  young  Lavinia  once  had  friends  ; 
And  Fortune  smil'd,  deceitful,  on  her  birth. 
For,  in  her  helpless  years  depriv'd  of  all, 
Of  every  stay,  save  Innocence  and  Heaven, 
She,  with  her  widow'd  mother,  feeble,  old, 
And  poor,  liv'd  in  a  cottage  far  retir'd 
Among  the  windings  of  a  woody  vale  ; 
By  solitude  and  deep  surrounding  shade*, 
But  more  by  bashful  modesty,  concwil  d. 
Together  thus  they  shunn'd  the  cruel  scorn 
Which  virtue,  sunk  to  poverty,  would  meet 
From  giddy  passion  and  low-minded  pride  . 
Almost  on  Nature's  common  bounty  fed ; 
Like  the  gay  birds  that  sung  them  to  ivposc, 
Content,  and  careless  of  to-morrow's  fare. 
Her  form  was  fresher  than  the  morning  rose, 
When  the  dew  wets  its  leaves ;  unstain'd  and  pure, 
AM  is  the  lily,  or  the  mountain  snow. 
The  modest  virtues  mingled  in  her  eyes, 
•Still  on  the  ground  dejected,  darting  all 


AUTUMN.  131 

Their  humid  beams  into  the  blooming  flowers  : 
Or  when  the  mournful  tale  her  mother  told, 
Of  what  her  faithless  fortune  promised  once, 
Thrill'd  in  her  thought,  they,  like  the  dewy  star 
Of  evening,  shone  in  tears.     A  native  grace 
Sat  fair-proportion'd  on  her  polish'd  limbs, 
Veil'd  in  a  simple  robe,  their  best  attire, 
Beyond  the  pomp  of  dress  ;  for  loveliness 
Needs  not  the  foreign  aid  of  ornament, 
But  is  when  unadorn'd,  adorn'd  the  most. 
Thoughtless  of  beauty,  she  was  Beauty's  self, 
Recluse  amid  the  close-embowering  woods. 
As  in  the  hollow  breast  of  Apennine, 
Beneath  the  shelter  of  encircling  hills, 
A  myrtle  rises,  far  from  human  eye, 
And  breathes  its  balmy  fragrance  o'er  the  wild  ; 
So  flourish'd  blooming,  and  unseen  by  all, 
The  sweet  Lavinia ;  till,  at  length  compell'd 
By  strong  Necessity's  supreme  command, 
With  smiling  patience  in  her  looks,  she  went 
To  glean  Palemon's  fields.     The  pride  of  swains 
Palemon  was,  the  generous,  and  the  rich  ; 
Who  led  the  rural  life  in  all  its  joy 
And  elegance,  such  as  Arcadian  song 
Transmits  from  ancient  uncorrupted  times  ; 
When  tyrant  custom  had  not  shackled  man, 
B\it  free  to  follow  Nature  was  the  mode. 
He  then,  his  fancy  with  autumnal  scenes 
Amusing,  chanc'd  beside  his  reaper-train 


132  THE  SEASONS. 

To  walk,  when  poor  Lavinia  drew  his  eye  ; 
Unconscious  of  her  power,  and  turning  quick 
With  unaffected  blushes  from  his  gaze  : 
He  saw  her  charmiujk  but  he  saw  not  half 
The  charms  her  downcast  modesty  conceal'd. 
That  very  moment  love  and  chaste  desire 
Sprung  in  his  bosom,  to  himself  unknown  ; 
For  still  the  world  prevail'd,  and  its  dread  laugh, 
Which  scarce  the  firm  philosopher  can  scorn, 
Should  his  heart  own  a  gleaner  in  the  field  ; 
And  thus  in  secret  to  his  soul  he  sigh'd  : — 

"  What  pity  !  that  so  delicate  a  form 
By  beauty  kindled,  where  enlivening  sense 
And  more  than  vulgar  goodness  seem  to  dwell, 
Should  be  devoted  to  the  rude  embrace 
Of  some  indecent  clown  !  she  looks,  methinks, 
Of  old  Acasto's  line  ;  and  to  my  mind 
Recalls  that  patron  of  my  happy  life,  . 

From  whom  my  liberal  fortune  took  its  rise  ; 
Now  to  the  dust  gone  down  ;  his  houses,  lauds, 
And  once  fair-spreading  family,  dissolv'd. 
'Tis  said,  that  in  some  lone  obscure  retreat, 
Urg'd  by  remembrance  sad,  and  decent  pride, 
Far  from  those  scenes  which  knew  their  better  days, 
His  aged  widow  and  his  daughter  live, 
Whom  yet  my  fruitless  search  could  never  find. 
Romantic  wish  !  would  this  the  daughter  were  ! " 

When,  strict  inquiring,  from  herself  he  found 
She  wan  the  game,  the  daughter  of  his  friend, 


AUTUMN.  133 

Of  bountiful  Acasto  ;  who  can  speak 

The  mingled  passions  that  surpris'd  his  heart, 

And  through  his  nerves  in  shivering  transport  ran? 

Then  blaz'd  his  smother'd  flame,  avow'd  and  bold  ; 

And  as  he  view'd  her,  ardent,  o'er  and  o'er, 

Love,  gratitude,  and  pity  wept  at  once. 

Conf  us'd  and  f  righten'd  at  his  sudden  tears, 

Her  rising  beauties  flush'd  a  higher  bloom, 

As  thus  Palemon,  passionate  and  just, 

Pour'd  out  the  pious  rapture  of  his  soul : 

"  And  art  thou  then  Acasto's  dear  remains  ? 
She,  whom  my  restless  gratitude  has  sought, 
So  long  in  vain  ?  O  heavens !  the  very  same, 
The  softened  image  of  my  noble  friend, 
Alive  his  every  look,  his  every  feature, 
More  elegantly  touch'd.     Sweeter  than  Spring ! 
Thou  sole  surviving  blossom  from  the  root 
That  nourish'd  up  my  fortune !  say,  ah  where, 
In  what  sequestered  desert,  hast  thou  drawn 
The  kindest  aspect  of  delighted  heaven? 
Into  such  beauty  spread,  and  blown  so  fair ; 
Though  Poverty's  cold  wind,  and  crushing  rain, 
Beat  keen,  and  heavy,  on  thy  tender  years? 
O  let  me  now,  into  a  richer  soil, 

Transplant  thee  safe !  where  vernal  suns,  and  showers, 
Diffuse  their  warmest,  largest  influence  ; 
And  of  my  garden  be  the  pride  and  joy  ! 
Ill  it  befits  thee,  oh  it  ill  befits 
Acasto's  daughter,  his,  whose  open  stores, 


134  THE  SEASONS. 

Though  vast,  were  little  to  his  ampler  heart, 
The  father  of  a  country,  thus  to  pick 
The  very  refuse  of  those  harvest  fields, 
Which  from  «his  bounteous  friendship  I  enjoy. 
Then  throw  that  shameful  pittance  from  thy  hand, 
But  ill  applied  to  such  a  rugg'd  task ; 
The  fields,  the  master,  all,  my  fair,  are  thine ; 
If  to  the  various  blessings  which  thy  house 
Has  on  me  lavish'd,  thou  wilt  add  that  bliss, 
That  dearest  bliss,  the  power  of  blessing  thee  ! " 
.     Here  ceas'd  the  youth ;  yet  still  hisspeaking  eye 
Exp'ressxTthe  sacred  triumph  of  his  soul, 
With  conscious  virtue,  gratitude,  and  love, 
Above  the  vulgar  joy  divinely  rais'd. 
Nor  waited  he  reply.    Won  by  the  charm 
Of  goodness  irresistible,  and  all 
In  sweet  disorder  lost,  she  blush'd  consent. 
The  news  immediate  to  her  mother  brought, 
While  pierc'd  with  anxious  thought,  she  pin'd  away 
'I'li«'  lonely  moments  for  Lavinia's  fate  ; 
Aniaz'd,  and  scarce  believing  what  she  heard, 
Joy  seiz'd  her  wither'd  veins,  and  one  bright  gleam 
Of  setting  life  shone  on  her  evening  hours : 
Not  less  enraptured  than  the  happy  pair  ; 
Who  flourished  long  in  tender  bliss,  ami  rear'd 
A  numerous  offspring,  lovely  like  themselves, 
And  good,  the  grace  of  all  the  country  round. 

Defeating  oft  the  labours  of  the  year, 
The  sultry  aouth  collects  a  potent  blast. 


AUTUMN.  135 

At  first,  the  groves  are  scarcely  seen  to  stir 
Their  trembling  tops  ;  and  a  still  murmur  runs  \ 
Along  the  soft-inclining  fields  of  corn. 
But  as  th'  aerial  tempest  fuller  swells, 
And  in  one  mighty  stream,  invisible, 
Immense,  the  _wTiole_  excited  atmosphere, 
Impetuous  rushes  o'er  the  sounding  world  ; 
Strain'd  to  the  root,  the  stooping  forest  pours 
A  rustling  shower  of  yet  untimely  leaves. 
High-beat,  the  circling  mountains  eddy  in, 
From  the  bare  wild,  the  dissipated  storm, 
And  send  it  in  a  torrent  down  the  vale. 
Expos'd,  and  naked,  to  its  utmost  rage, 
Through  all  the  sea  of  harvest  rolling  round, 
The  billowy  plain  floats  wide  ;  nor  can  evade, 
Though  pliant  to  the  blast,  its  seizing  force  ; 
Or  whirl'd  in  air,  or  into  vacant  chaff 
Shook  waste.     And  sometimes  too  a  burst  of  rain, 
Swept  from  the  black  horizon,  broad,  descends 
In  one  continuous  flood.     Still  over  head 
The  mingling  tempest  weaves  its  gloom,  and  still 
The  deluge  deepens  ;  till  the  fields  around 
Lie  sunk,  and  flatted,  in  the  sordid  wave. 
Sudden,  the  ditches  swell ;  the  meadows  swim. 
Red,  from  the  hills,  innumerable  streams 
Tumultuous  roar  ;  and  high  above  its  banks 
The  river  lift ;  before  whose  rushing  tide, 
Herds,  flocks,  and  harvests,  cottages,  and  swains, 
Roll  mingled  down  ;  all  that  the  winds  had  spar'd 


136  THE  SEASONS. 

In  one  wild  moment  ruin'd  ;  the  big  hopes, 
And  well-earn'd  treasures  of  the  painful  year. 
Fled  to  some  eminence,  the  husbandman 
Helpless  beholds  the  miserable  wreck 
Driving  along  ;  ^his  drowning  ox  at  once 
Descending,  with  his  labours  scattered  round, 
He  sees  ;  and  instant  o'er  his  shivering  thought 
Comes  Winter  unprovided,  and  a  train 
Of  claimant  children  dear.     Ye  masters,  then, 
Be  mindful  of  the  rough  laborious  hand 
That  sinks  you  soft  in  elegance  and  ease  ; 
Be  mindful  of  those  limbs  in  russet  clad 
Whose  toil  to  yours  is  warmth  and  graceful  pride 
And,  oh !  be  mindful  of  that  sparing  board, 
Which  covers  yours  with  luxury  profuse, 
Makes  your  glass  sparkle,  and  your  sense  rejoice ! 
Nor  cruelly  demand  what  the  deep  rains, 
And  all-involving  winds,  have  swept  away. 

Here  the  rude  clamour  of  the  sportsman's  joy, 
The  gun  fast-thundering,  aiuTthe  windedTTorn, 
Would  tempt  the  Muse  to  sing  the  rural  game  : 
How  in  his  mid-career  the  spaniel  struck, 
Stiff,  by  the  tainted  gale,  with  open  nose, 
OuUtretch'd,  and  finely  sensible,  draws  full, 
Fearful,  and  cautious,  on  the  latent_prey  ; 
AVTii  the  BUD  the  circling  covey  bask 
Their  varied  plumes,  and  watchful  every  wa\ , 
Through  the-  rough  htubUf  turn  tin-  *<  < 
Caught  in  the-  nu--li\  .-.u;iu-,  in  vain  tliry  beat 


AUTUMN.  137 

Their  idle  wings,  entangled  more  and  more  :  \ 
Nor  on  the  surges  of  the  boundless  air, 
Though  borne  triumphant,  are  they  safe  ;  the  gun, 
Glanc'd  just,  and  sudden  from  the  fowler's  eye 
O'ertakes  their  sounding  pinions :  and  again, 
Immediate,  brings  them  from  the  towering  wing, 
Dead  to  the  grcmnd  ;  or  drives  them  wide-dispers'd, 
Wounded,  and  wheeling  various,  down  the  wind. 
These  are  not  subjects  for  the  peaceful  Muse,) 
Nor  will  she  stain  with  such  her  spotless  song : 
Then  most  delighted,  when  she  social  sees 
The  whole  mix'd  animal-creation  *ound 
Alive,  and  happy.     'Tis  not  joy  to  her, 
This  falsely-cheerful  barbarous  game  of  death, 
This  rage  of  pleasure,  which  the  restless  youth 
Awakes,  impatient,  with  the  gleaming  morn  : 
When  beasts  of  prey  retire,  that  all  night  long, 
Urg'd  by  necessity,  had  ranged  the  dark, 
As  if  their  consciousjuvage  shunn'd  the  light. 
Asham'd.    Not8o_the_8teady  tyrant  Man, 
Who  with  the  thoughtless  insolence  of  power 
Inflam'd,  beyond  the  most  infuriate  wrath 
Of  the  worst  monster  that  e'er  roam'd  the  waste, 
For  sport  alone  pursues  the  cruel  chase, 
Amid  the  beamings  of  the  gentle  days. 
Upbraid,  ye  ravening  tribes,  our  wanton  rage, 
For  hunger  kindles  you,  and  lawless  want ; 
But  lavish  fed,  in  Nature's  bounty  roll'd, 
To  joy  at  anguish,  and  delight  in  blood, 


138  THK   SEASONS. 

Is  what  your  horrid  bosoms  never  knew. 

Poor  is  the  triumph  o'er  the  timid  hare  ! 
Scar'd  from  the  command  now  to  some  lone  seat 
Retir'd  :  the  rushy  fen  ;  the  ragged  furze, 
Stretch'd  o'er  the  stony  heath  ;  the  stubble  chapt ; 
The  thistly  lawn  ;  the  thick  entangled  broom  ; 
Of  the  same  friendly  hue,  the  withered  fern  ; 
The  fallow  groxind  laid  open  to  the  sun, 
Concoctive  ;  and  the  nodding  sandy  bank, 
Hung  o'er  the  mazes  of  the  mountain  brook. 
Vain  is  her  best  precaution  ;  though  she  sits 
ConceaFd,  with  folded  ears  ;  unsleeping  eyes, 
By  Nature  rais'd  to  take  th'  horizon  in  ; 
And  head  couch'd  close  betwixt  her  hairy  feet, 
In  act  to  spring  away.    The  scented  dew 
Betrays  her  early  labyrinth  ;  and  deep, 
In  scatter'd  sullen  openings,  far  behind, 
Witli  every  breeze  she  hears  the  coming  storm. 
But  nearer,  and  more  frequent,  as  it  loads 
The  sighing  gale,  she  springs  amaz'd,  and  all 
The  savage  soul  of  game  is  up  at  once  : 
The  pack  full-opening,  various  ;  the  shrill  honi, 
Resounded  from  the  hills  ;  the  neighing  steed, 
Wild  for  the  chase  ;  and  the  loud  hunter's  shout ; 
O'er  a  weak,  harmless,  flying  creature,  all 
Mix'd  in  mad  tumult,  and  discordant  joy. 

The  stag,  too,  singled  from  the  herd,  where  long 
He  rang'd  the  branching  monarch  of  the  shades, 
Before  the  tempest  drives.     At  first,  in  speed 


AUTUMN.  139 

He,  sprightly,  puts  his  faith  ;  and,  rous'd  by  fear, 
Gives  all  his  swift  and  aerial  soul  to  flight ; 
Against  the  breeze  he  darts,  that  way  the  more 
To  leave  the  lessening  murderous  cry  behind  : 
Deception  short :  though  fleeter  than  the  winds 
Blown  o'er  the  keen-airM  mountain  by  the  north, 
He  bursts  the  thickets,  glances  through  the  glades, 
And  plunges  deep  into  the  wildest  wood  ; 
If  slow,  yet  sure,  adhesive  to  the  track 
Hot-steaming,  up  behind  him  come  again 
Th'  inhuman  rout,  and  from  the  shady  depth 
Expel  him,  circling  through  his  every  shift. 
He  sweeps  the  forest  oft ;  and  sobbing  sees"^ 
The  glades,  mild  opening  to  the  golden  day 
Where,  in  kind  contest  with  his  butting  friends, 
He  wont  to  struggle,  or  his  loves  enjoy. 
Oft  in  the  full-descending  flood  he  tries 
To  lose  the  scent,  and  lave  his  burning  sides  : 
Oft  seeks  the  herd  ;  the  watchful  herd,  alarm'd, 
With  selfish  care  avoid  a  brother's  woe. 
What  shall  he  do  ?     His  once  so  vivid  nerves, 
So  full  of  buoyant  spirit,  now  no  more 
'Inspire  the  course  ;  but  fainting  breathless  toil, 
Sick,  seizes  on  his  heart :  he  stands  at  bay  ; 
And  puts  his  last  weak  refuge  in  despair. 
The  big  round  tears  run  down  his  dappled  face  ; 
He  groans  in  anguish  :  while  the  growling  pack, 
Blood-happy,  hang  at  his  fair  jutting  chest, 
And  mark  his  beauteous  chequer'd  sides  with  gore. 


140  THE  SEASONS. 

Of  this  euough.     But  if  the  silvan  youth, 
Whose  frequent  fervent  blood  boils  into  violence, 
Must  have  the  chase  ;  behold,  despising  flight, 
The  rous'd-up  lion  resolute,  and  slow, 
Advancing  full  on  the  protended  spear, 
And  coward-band,  that  circling  wheel  aloof. 
Slunk  from  the  cavern,  and  the  troubled  wood, 
See  the  grim  wolf  ;  on  him  his  shaggy  foe 
Vindictive  fix,  and  let  the  ruffian  die  : 
Or,  growling  horrid,  as  the  brindled  boar 
Grins  fell  destruction,  to  the  monster's  heart 
Let  the  dart  lighten  from  the  nervous  arm. 

These  Britain  knows  not ;  give,  ye  Britons,  then 
Your  sportive  fury,  pitiless,  to  pour 
Loose  on  the  nightly  robber  of  the  fold  ; 
Him,  from  his  craggy  winding  haunts  unearth'd, 
Let  all  the  thunder  of  the  chase  pursue. 
Throw  the  broad  ditch  behind  you  ;  o'er  the  hedge 
'  High  bound,  resistless  ;  nor  the  deep  morass 
Refuse,  but  through  the  shaking  wilderness 
Pick  your  nice  way ;  into  the  perilous  flood 
Bear  fearless,  of  the  raging  instinct  full  ; 
And  as  you  ride  the  torrent,  to  the  banks 
Your  triumph  sound  sonorous,  running  round, 
From  rock  to  rock,  in  circling  echoes  tost ; 
Then  scale  the  mountains  to  their  woody  tops  ; 
Rush  down  the  dangerous  steep  ;  and  o'er  the  lawn, 
In  fancy  swallowing  up  the  space  between, 
Pour  all  your  speed  into  the  rapid  game. 


AUTUMN.  141 

For  happy  he  !  who  tops  the  wheeling  chase  ; 
Has  every  maze  evolv'd,  and  every  guile 
Disclos'd  ;  who  knows  the  merits  of  the  pack  ; 
Who  saw  the  villain  seiz'd,  and  dying  hard, 
Without  complaint,  though  by  an  hundred  mouths 
Relentless  torn  :  O.  glorious  he,  beyond 
His  daring  peers  !  when  the  retreating  horn 
Calls  them  to  ghostly  halls  of  grey  renown, 
With  woodland  honours  grac'd  ;  the  fox's  fur, 
Depending  decent  from  the  roof  ;  and  spread 
Bound  the  drear  walls,  with  antic  figures  fierce, 
The  stag's  large  front :  he  then  is  loudest  heard, 
When  the  night  staggers  with  severer  toils, 
With  feats  Thessalian  Centaurs  never  knew, 
And  their  repeated  wonders  shake  the  dome. 

But  first  the  fuel'd  chimney  blazes  wide  ; 
The  tankards  foam  ;  and  the  strong  table  groans 
Beneath  the  smoking  sirloin,  stretch'd  immense 
From  side  to  side  ;  in  which,  with  desperate  knife, 
They  deep  incisions  make,  and  talk  the  while 
Of  England's  glory,  ne'er  to  be  defac'd 
While  hence  they  borrow  vigour  :  or  amain 
Into  the  pasty  plung'd,  at  intervals, 
If  stomach  keen  can  intervals  allow, 
Eelating  all  the  glories  of  the  chase. 
Then  sated  Hunger  bids  his  brother  Thirst 
Produce  the  mighty  bowl ;  the  mighty  bowl 
Swell'd  high  with  fiery  juice,  steams  liberal  round 
A  potent  gale,  delicious,  as  the  breath 


142  TMK   SEASONS. 

Of  Maia  to  the  love-sick  shepherdess, 
On  violets  diffus'd,  while  soft  she  hears 
Her  panting  shepherd  stealing  to  her  arms. 
Nor  wanting  is  the  brown  October,  drawn, 
M.-uui  .•  and  perfect,  from  his  dark  retreat 
Of  thirty  years  ;  and  now  his  honest  front 
Flames  in  the  light  refulgent,  not  afraid 
Ev'n  with  the  vineyard's  best  produce  to  vie. 
To  cheat  the  thirsty  moments,  Whist  awhile 
Walks  his  dull  round,  beneath  a  cloud  of  smoke, 
Wreath'd,  fragrant,  from  the  pipe ;  or  the  quick  dice, 
In  thunder  leaping  from  the  box,  awake 
Tin-  sounding  gammon  :  while  romp-loving  miss 
Is  haul'd  about,  in  gallantry  robust. 
At  last  these  puling  idlenesses  laid 
Aside,  frequent  and  full,  the  dry  divan 
Close  in  firm  circle  ;  and  set,  ardent,  in 
For  serious  drinking.     Nor  evasion  sly, 
Nor  sober  shift,  is  to  the  puking  wretch 
Indulg'd  apart ;  but  earnest,  brimming  1 1<  >  ,\  U 
Ijave  every  soul,  the  table  floating  round, 
And  pavement,  faithless  to  the  fuddled  foot. 
Thus  as  they  swim  in  mutual  swill,  the  talk, 
Vociferous  at  once  from  twenty  tongues, 
Reels  fast  from  theme  to  theme ;  from  horses,  hound*, 
To  church  or  mistress,  politics  or  ghost, 
In  endless  mazes,  intricate,  perplex'd. 
Meantime,  with  sudden  interruption,  loud, 
Tli"  i ni| ut  i.  nt  cat<-h  burst*  from  the  joyous  heart ; 


AUTUMN.  143 

That  moment  touch'd  is  every  kindred  soul ; 
And,  opening  in  a  full-mouth;d  cry  of  joy, 
The  laugh,  the  slap,  the  jocund  curse  go  round  ; 
While,  from  their  slumbers  shook,  the  kennel'd  hounds 
Mix  in  the  music  of  the  day  again. 
As  when  the  tempest,  that  has  vex'd  the  deep 
The  dark  night  long,  with  fainter  murmurs  falls  ; 
So  gradual  sinks  their  mirth.     Their  feeble  tongues, ) 
Unable  to  take  up  the  cumbrous  word, 
Lie  quite  dissolvd.     Before  their  maudlin  eyes, 
Seen  dim,  and  blue,  the  double  tapers  dance, 
Like  the  sun  wading  through  the  misty  sky. 
Then,  sliding  soft,  they  drop.     Confus'd  above, 
Glasses  and  bottles,  pipes  and  gazetteers, 
As  if  the  table  eVn  itself  was  drunk. 
Lie  a  wet  broken  scene  ;  and  wide,  below, 
Is  heap'd  the  social  slaughter  :  where  astride 
The  lubby  Power  in  filthy  triumph  sits, 
Slumbrous,  inclining  still  from  side  to  side, 
And  steeps  them  drench 'd  in  potent  sleep  till  morn. 
Perhaps  some  doctor,  of  tremendous  paunch, 
Awful  and  deep,  a  black  abyss  of  drink, 
Outlives  them  all ;  and  from  his  buried  flock 
Retiring,  full  of  rumination  sad, 
Laments  the  weakness  of  these  latter  times. 
But  if  the  rougher  sex  by  this  fierce  sport 
Is  hurried  wild,  let  not  such  horrid  joy 
E'er  stain  the  bosom  of  the  British  Fair. 
Far  be  the  spirit  of  the  chase  from  them  ! 


144  THE   SEASONS. 

Uncomely  courage,  unbeseeming  skill ; 

To  spring  the  fence,  to  rein  the  prancing  steed  ; 

The  cap,  the  whip,  the  masculine  attire  ; 

In  which  they  roughen  to  the  sense,  and  all 

The  winning  softness  of  their  sex  is  lost. 

In  them  'tis  graceful  to  dissolve  at  woe  ; 

With  every  motion,  every  word,  to  wave 

Quick  o'er  the  kindling  cheek  the  ready  blush  ; 

And  from  the  smallest  violence  to  shrink 

Unequal,  then  the  loveliest  in  their  fears  ; 

And  by  this  silent  adulation,  soft, 

To  their  protection  more  engaging  ManJ 

O  may  their  eyes  no  miserable  sight, 

Save  weeping  lovers,  see  !  a  nobler  game, 

Through  love's  enchanting  wiles  pursued,  yet  fled, 

In  chase  ambiguous.     May  their  tender  limbs 

Float  in  the  loose  simplicity  of  dress  ! 

And,  fashion'd  all  to  harmony  alone 

Know  they  to  seize  the  captivated  soul, 

In  rapture  warbled  from  love-breathing  lips  ; 

To  teach  the  lute  to  languish  :  with  smooth  step, 

Disclosing  motion  in  its  every  charm, 

To  swim  along,  and  swell  the  mazy  dance  ; 

To  train  the  foliage  o'er  the  snowy  lawn  ; 

To  guide  the  pencil,  turn  the  tuneful  page  ; 

To  lend  new  flavour  to  the  fruitful  y«-ar, 

And  heighten  Nature's  dainties  :  in  their  race 

To  rear  their  graces  into  second  life  ; 

To  give  society  its  highest  taste  ; 


AUTUMN. 

Well-order'd  home  man's  best  delight  to  make  ; 
And  by  submissive  wisdom,  modest  skill, 
With  every  gentle  care-eluding  art, 
To  raise  the  virtues,  animate  the  bliss, 
And  sweeten  all  the  toils  of  human  life  : 
Thisjje  the  female  dignity,  and  praise. 

Ye  swains,  now  hasten  to  the  hazel-bank  ; 
Where,  down  yon  dale,  the  wildly-winding  brook 
Falls  hoarse  from  steep  to  steep.     In  close  array, 
Fit  for  the  thickets  and  the  tangling  shrub, 
Ye  virgins  come.     For  you  their  latest  song 
The  woodlands  raise  ;  the  clustering  nuts  for  you 
The  lover  finds  amid  the  secret  shade  ; 
And,  where  they  burnish  on  the  topmost  bough, 
With  active  vigour  crushes  down  the  tree  ; 
Or  shakes  them  ripe  from  the  resigning  husk, 
A  glossy  shower,  and  of  an  ardent  brown, 
As  are  the  ringlets  of  Melinda's  hair  : 
Melinda  !  form'd  with  every  grace  complete. 
Yet  these  neglecting,  above  beauty  wise, 
And  far  transcending  such  a  vulgar  praise. 

Hence  from  the  busy  joy-resounding  fields, 
In  cheerful  error,  let  us  tread  the  maze 
Of  .Autumn,  unconfinjd  ;  and 


The  breath  of  orchard  big  with  bending  fruit. 
Obedient  to  the  breeze  and  beating  ray, 
From  the  deep-loaded  bough  a  mellow  shower 
Incessant  melts  away.     The  juicy  pear 
Lies,  in  a  soft  profusion,  scatter'd  round. 


146  TI1K   SEASON& 

A  various  sweetness  swells  the  gentle  race  ; 
By  Nature's  all-refining  hand  prepar'd  ; 
Of  tempered  sun,  and  water,  earth,  and  air, 
In  ever-changing  composition  mix'd. 
Such,  falling  frequent  through  the  chiller  night, 
The  fragrant  stores,  the  wide-projected  heaps 
Of  apples,  which  the  lusty-handed  Year, 
Innumerous,  o'er  the  blushing  orchard  shakes. 
A  various  spirit,  fresh,  delicious,  keen, 
Dwells  in  their  gelid  pores  ;  and,  active,  points 
The  piercing  cider  for  the  thirsty  tongue  : 

r     *• 

|Thy  native  theme,  and  boon  inspirer  too, 
Phillips,  Pomona's  bard,  the  second  thou 
Who  nobly  durst,  in  rhyme-unfetter'd  verse, 
With  British  freedom  sing  the  British  song  : 
How,  from  Silurian  vats,  high-sparkling  wines 
Foam  in  transparent  floods  ;  some  strong,  to  cheer 
The  wintry  revels  of  the  labouring  hind  ; 
And  tasteful  some,  to  cool  the  summer  hours. 

In  this  glad  season,  while  his  sweetest  beams 
The  sun  sheds  equal  o'er  the  meeken'd  day  ; 
Oh  lose  me  in  the  green  delightful  walks 
Of,  Dodington,  thy  seat,  serene  and  plain  ; 

l-» 

Where  simple  Nature  reigns  ;  and  every  view, 
Diffusive,  spreads  the  pure  Dorsetian  downs, 
In  boundless  prospect ;  yonder  shagg'd  with  wood, 
Here  rich  with  harvest,  and  there  white  with  flocks  ! 
Meantime  the  grandeur  of  thy  lofty  dome, 
Far-Bpleudid,  seizes  on  the  ravish'd  eye. 


AUTUMN.  147 

New  beauties  rise  with  each  revolving  day  ; 

New  columns  swell ;  and  still  the  fresh  Spring  finds 

New  plants  to  quicken,  and  new  groves  to  green, 

Full  of  thy  genius  all !  the  Muses'  seat : 

Where  in  the  secret  bower,  and  winding  walk, 

For  virtuous  Young  and  thee  they  twine  the  bay. 

Here  wandering  oft,  fir'd  with  the  restless  thirst 

Of  thy  applause,  I  solitary  court 

Th'  inspiring  breeze  :  and  meditate  the  book 

Of  Nature  ever  open  ;  aiming  thence, 

Warm  from  the  heart,  to  learn  the  moral  song. 

Here,  as  I  steal  along  the  sunny  wall, 

Where  Autumn  basks,  with  fruit  empurpled  deep, 

My  pleasing  theme  continual  prompts  my  thought : 

Presents  the  downy  peach  ;  the  shining  plum  : 

The  ruddy,  fragrant  nectarine  ;  and  dark, 

Beneath  his  ample  leaf,  the  luscious  fig. 

The  vine  too  here  her  curling  tendrils  shoots  ; 

Hangs  out  her  clusters,  glowing  to  the  south, 

And  scarcely  wishes  for  a  warmer  sky. 

Turn  we  amoment  Fancy's  rapid  flight 
To  vigorous  soils,  and  climes  of  fair  extent ; 
Where,  by  the  potent  sun  elated  high, 
The  vineyard  swells  refulgent  on  the  day  ; 
Spreads  o'er  the  vale  ;  or  up  the  mountain  climbs, 
Profuse  ;  and  drinks  amid  the  sunny  rocks, 
From  cliff  to  cliff  increas'd,  the  heighten'd  blaze. 
Low  bend  the  weighty  boughs.     The  clusters  clear, 
Half  through  the  foliage  seen,  or  ardent  flame, 


148 


THE   SEASONS. 


Or  shine  transparent ;  •while  perfection  breathes 

White  o'er  the  turgent  film  the  living  dew. 

And  thus  they  brighten  with  exalted  juice, 

Touch'd  into  flavour  by  the  mingling  ray  ; 

The  rural  youth  and  virgins  o'er  the  field, 

Each  fond  for  each  to  cull  th'  autumnal  prime, 

Exulting  rove,  and  speak  the  vintage  nigh. 

Then  comes  the  crushing  swain  ;  the  country  floats, 

And  foams  unbounded  with  the  mashy  flood  ; 

That  by  degrees  fermented,  and  refin'd, 

Hound  the  rais'd  nations  pours  the  cup  of  joy  : 

The  claret  smooth,  red  as  the  lip  we  press 

In  sparkling  fancy,  while  we  drain  the  bowl ; 

The  mellow-tasted  burgundy  ;  and  quick, 

Asjs  the  wit  it  gives,  the  gay  champagne. 

Now,  by  the  cool  declining  year  condens'd, 
Descend  the  copious  exhalations,  check'd 
As  up  the  middle  sky  unseen  they  stole, 
And  roll  the  doubling  fogs  around  the  hill. 
No  more  the  mountain,  horrid,  vast,  sublime, 
Who  pours  a  sweep  of  rivers  from  his  sides, 
And  high  between  contending  kingdoms  rears 
The  rocky  long  division,  fills  the  view 
With  great  variety  ;  but  in  a  night 
Of  gathering  vapour,  from  the  baffled  sense 
Sinks  dark  and  dreary.     Thence  expanding  far, 
The  huge  dusk,  gradual,  swallows  up  the  plain  : 
Vanish  the  woods  :  the  dim-seen  river  seems 
Sullen,  and  alow,  to  roll  the  misty  wave. 


AUTUMN.  149 

in  the  height  of  noon  oppress'd,  the  sun 
Sheds  weak,  and  blunt,  his  wide-refracted  ray  ; 
Whence  glaring  oft,  with  many  a  broaden'd  orb, 
He  frights  the  nations.     Indistinct  on  earth, 
Seen  through  the  turbid  air,  beyond  the  life 
Objects  appear  ;  and  wilder'd,  o'er  the  waste 
The  shepherd  stalks  gigantic.     Till  at  last 
Wreath'd  dun  around,  in  deeper  circles  still 
Successive  closing,  sits  the  general  fog 
Unbounded  o'er  the  world  ;  and  mingling  thick, 
A  formless  grey  confusion  covers  all 
As  when  of  old  (so  sung  the  Hebrew  Bard) 
Light,  uncollected,  through  the  chaos  urg'd 
Its  infant  way  ;  nor  Order  yet  had  drawn 
His  lovely  train  from  out  the  dubious  gloom. 

These  roving  mists,  that  constant  now  begin 
To  smoke  along  the  hilly  country,  these, 
With  weighty  rains,  and  melted  Alpine  snows, 
The  mountain-cisterns  fill,  those  ample  stores 
Of  water,  scoop'd  among  the  hollow  rocks  ; 
Whence  gush  the  streams,  the  ceaseless  fountains  play, 
And  their  unfailing  wealth  the  rivers  draw. 
Some  sages  say,  that,  where  the  numerous  wave 
For  ever  lashes  the  resounding  shore, 
Drill'd  through  the  sandy  stratum,  every  way, 
The  waters  with  the  sandy  stratum  rise  ; 
Amid  whose  angles  infinitely  strain'd, 
They  joyful  leave  their  jaggy  salts  behind, 
And  clear  and  sweeten  as  they  soak  along. 


150  THE  SEASONS. 

Nor  stops  the  restless  fluid,  mounting  still, 
Though  oft  amidst  th'  irriguous  vale  it  springs  ; 
But  to  the  mountain  courted  by  the  sand, 
That  leads  it  darkling  on  in  faithful  maze, 
Far  from  the  parent-main,  it  boils  again 
Fresh  into  day  ;  and  all  the  glittering  hill 
Is  bright  with  spouting  rills.    JBut  hence  this  vain 
Amusive  dream  !  why  should  the  waters  love 
To  take  so  far  a  journey  to  the  hills, 
When  the  sweet  valleys  offer  to  their  toil 
Inviting  quiet,  and  a  nearer  bed  ? 
Or  Jf^bjiLbJindainbition  led  astray, 
They  must  aspire  ;  why  should  they  sudden  stop 
Among  the  broken  mountain's  rushy  dells, 
And,  ere  they  gain  its  highest  peak,  desert 
Th'  attractive  sand  that  charmed  their  course  so  long  ? 
"Besides,  the  hard  agglomerating  salts, 
The  spoil  of  ages,  would  impervious  choke 
Their  secret  channels  ;  or,  by  slow  degrees, 
High  as  the  hills  protrude  the  swelling  vales  : 
Old  Ocean  too,  suck'd  through  the  porous  globe, 
Had  long  ere  now  forsook  his  horrid  bed, 
And  brought  Deucalion's  watery  times  again. 

Say  then,  where  lurk  the  vast  eternal  springs, 
That,  like  creating  Natm^_lie_concealed 

,  yet  with  their  lavish  stores 


Refresh  the  globe,  and  all  Its  joyous  tribes  ! 
O  thou  pervading  Genius,  given  to  man, 
To  trace  the  secrets  of  the  dark  abyss, 


AUTUMN.  151 

O  lay  the  mountains  bare  !  and  wide  display 
Their  hidden  structure  to  th'  astonisliM  view  ! 
Strip  from  the  branching  Alps  their  piny  load  ; 
The  huge  iucumbrance  of  horrific  woods 
From  Asian  Taurus,  from  Imau.s  stretch'd 
Athwart  the  roving  Tartar's  sullen  bounds  ! 
Give  opening  Hemus  to  my  searching  eye, 
And  high  Olympus  pouring  many  a  stream  ! 
O  from  the  sounding  summits  of  the  north, 
The  Dofrine  hills,  through  Scandinavia  roll'd 
To  furthest  Lapland  and  the  frozen  maiu  ; 
From  lofty  Caucasus,  far  seen  by  those 
Who  in  the  Caspian  and  black  Euxine  toil ; 
From  cold  Riphean  rocks,  which  the  wild  Ruas 
Believes  the  stony  girdle*  of  the  world  : 
And  all  the  dreadful  mountains,  wrap'd  in  storm, 
Whence  wide  Siberia  draws  her  lonely  floods  ; 
O  sweep  th'  eternal  snows  !     Hung  o'er  the  deep, 
That  ever  works  beneath  his  sounding  base, 
Bid  Atlas,  propping  heaven,  as  poets  feign, 
His  subterranean  wonders  spread  !  unveil 
The  miny  caverns,  blazing  on  the  day, 
Of  Abyssinia's  cloud-compelling  cliffs, 
And  of  the  bending  Mountains  t  of  the  Moon  ! 
Overtopping  all  these  giant-sons  of  earth, 

*  The  Muscovites  call  the  Riphean  Mountains  Weliki 
Camenypoyt ;  that  is,  the  great  stony  Girdle :  because  they 
suppose  them  to  encompass  the  whole  earth. 

t  A  range  of  mountains  in  Africa,  that  surround  almost  all 
Monomotapa. 


152  THE  SEASONS. 

Let  the  dire  Andes,  from  the  radiant  line 

Stretch'd  to  the  stormy  seas  that  thunder  round 

The  southern  pole,  their  hideous  deeps  unfold  ! 

Amazing  scene  !  behold  !  the  glooms  disclose, 

I  see  the  rivers  in  their  infantbeds  ! 

Deep.deepl  hear  them,  labouring  to  get  free  ; 

I  see  the  leaning  strata,  artful  rang'd  ; 

Thg  gaping  fissures  to^reCelyejthpi  raing, 

The  melting  snows,  and  ever-dripping  fogs. 

Strow'd  bibulous  above  I  see  the  sands, 

The  pebbly  gravel  next,  the  layers  then 

Of  mingled  moulds,  of  more  retentive  earths, 

The  gutter'd  rocks  and  mazy-running  clefts  ; 

That,  while  the  stealing  moisture  they  transmit, 

Retard  its  motion,  and  forbid  its  waste. 

Beneath  th'  incessant  weeping  of  these  drains, 

I  see  the  rocky  siphons  stretch'd  immense, 

The  mighty  reservoirs,  of  harden'd  chalk, 

Or  stiff  compacted  clay,  capacious  f orm'd  : 

O'erflowing  thence,  the  congregated  stores, 

The  crystal  treasures  of  the  liquid  world, 

Through  the  stirr'd  sands  a  bubbling  passage  burst ; 

And  welling  out,  around  the  middle  steep, 

Or  from  the  bottoms  of  the  bosom'd  hills, 

In  pure  effusion  flow.     United,  thus, 

The  exhaling  sun,  the  vapour-burden'd  air, 

The  gelid  mountains,  that  to  rain  condens'd 

These  vapours  in  continual  current  draw, 

And  send  them,  o'er  the  fair-divided  earth, 


AUTOMX.  153 

In  bounteous  rivers  to  the  deep  again, 
A  social  commerce  hold,  and  firm  support 
The  full-adjusted  harmony  of  things. 

When  Autumn  scatters  his  departing  gleams, 
Warn'd  of  approaching  Winter,  gather'd,  play 
The  swallow-people  ;  and  toss'd  wide  around, 
O'er  the  calm  sky,  in  convolution  swift, 
The  feather'd  eddy  floats  :  rejoicing  once, 
Ere  to  their  wintry  slumbers  they  retire  ; 
In  clusters  clung,  beneath  the  mouldering  bank, 
And  where,  unpierced  by  frost,  the  cavern  sweats. 
Or  rather  into  warmer  climes  convey'd, 
With  other  kindred  birds  of  season,  there 
They  twitter  cheerful,  till  the  venial  months 
Invite  them  welcome  back  :  for,  thronging,  now 
Immmerous  wings  are  in  commotion  all. 

Where  the  Rhine  loses  his  majestic  force 
In  Belgian  plains,  won  from  the  raging  deep, 
By  diligence  amazing,  and  the  strong 
Unconquerable  hand  of  j-dberty. 
The  stork-assembly  meets  ;  for  many  a  day 
Consulting  deep,  and  various,  ere  they  take 
Their  arduous  voyage  through  the  liquid  sky. 
And  now  their  route  design'd,  their  leaders  chose, 
Their  tribes  adjusted,  clean'd  their  vigorous  wings  ; 
And  many  a  circle,  many  a  short  essay, 
Wheel'd  round  and  round,  in  congregation  full 
The  figur'd  flight  ascends  ;  and,  riding  high 
Th1  aerial  billows,  mixes  with  the  clouds. 


154  THE  SEASONS. 

Or  where  the  Northern  ocean,  in  vast  whirls, 
Boils  round  the  naked  melancholy  isles 
Of  furthest  Thule,  and  th'  Atlantic  surge 
Pours  in  among  the  stormy  Hebrides  ; 
Who  can  recount  what  transmigrations  there 
Are  annual  made  ?  what  nations  come  and  go  ? 
And  how  the  living  clouds  on  clouds  arise  ? 
Infinite  wings  !  till  all  the  plume-dark  air, 
And  rude  resounding  shore  are  one  wild  cry. 

Here  the  plain  harmless  native  his  small  flock, 
And  heard  diminutive  of  many  hues, 
Tends  on  the  little  island's  verdant  swell, 
The  shepherd's  sea-girt  reign  ;  or,  to  the  rocks 
Dire-clinging,  gathers  his  ovarious  food  ; 
Or  sweeps  the  fishy  shore  !  or  treasures  up 
The  plumage,  rising  full,  to  form  the  bed 
Of  luxury.     And  here  awhile  the  Muse, 
High  hovering  o'er  the  broad  cerulean  scene, 
Sees  Caledonia,  in  romantic  view  : 
Her  airy  mountains,  from  the  waving  main, 
Invested  with  a  keen  diffusive  sky, 
Breathing  the  soul  acute  ;  her  forests  huge, 
Incult,  robust,  and  tall,  by  Nature's  hand 
Planted  of  old  ;  her  azure  lakes  between, 
Pour"d  out  extensive,  and  of  watery  wealth 
Full ;  winding  deep,  and  green,  her  fertile  vales  ; 
With  many  a  cool  translucent  brimming  flood 
Wash'd  lovely,  from  the  Tweed  (pure  parent  stream, 
Whose  pastoral  banks  first  heard  my  Doric  reed, 


AUTUMN.  155 

With,  silvan  Jed,  thy  tributary  brook) 

To  where  the  north- inflated  tempest  foams 

O'er  Orca's  or  Betubium's  highest  peak  : 

Nurse  of  a  people,  in  Misfortune's  school 

Train'd  up  to  hardy  deeds  ;  soon  visited 

By  Learning,  when  before  the  gothic  rage 

She  took  her  western  flight.    A  manly  race, 

Of  unsubmitting  spirit,  wise,  and  brave  ; 

Who  still  through  bleeding  ages  struggled  hard, 

(As  well  unhappy  Wallace  can  attest, 

Great  patriot-hero  !  ill-requited  chief  !) 

To  hold  a  generous  undiminish'd  state ; 

Too  much  in  vain  !     Hence  of  unequal  bounds 

Impatient,  and  by  tempting  glory  borne 

O'er  every  land,  for  every  land  their  life 

Has  flowed  profuse,  their  piercing  genius  planu'd, 

And  swell'd  the  pomp  of  peace  their  faithful  toil. 

As  from  their  own  clear  north,  in  radiant  streams, 

Bright  over  Europe  bursts  the  boreal  morn. 

Oh  !  is  there  not  some  patriot,  in  whose  power 
That  best,  that  godlike  luxury  is  plac'd, 
Of  blessing  thousands,  thousands  yet  unborn, 
Tli  rough  late  posterity  !  some,  large  of  soul, 
To  cheer  dejected  industry  ?  to  give 
A  double  harvest  to  the  pining  swain  ? 
And  teach  the  labouring  hand  the  sweets  of  toil  ? 
How,  by  the  finest  art,  the  native  robe 
To  weave  ;  how  white  as  hyperborean  snow, 
To  form  the  lucid  lawn  ;  with  venturous  oar 


156  THE  SKASONS. 

How  to  dash  wide  the  billow  ;  nor  look  on, 

Shamefully  passive,  while  Batavian  fleets 

Defraud  us  of  the  glittering  finny  swarms, 

That  heave  our  friths,  and  crowd  upon  our  shores  ; 

How  all-enlivening  trade  to  rouse,  and  wing 

The  prosperous  sail,  from  every  growing  port, 

Uninjur'd,  round  the  sea-encircled  globe  ; 

And  thus,  in  soul  united  as  in  name, 

Bid  Britain  reign  the  mistress  of  the  deep? 

Yes,  there  are  such.     And  full  on  thee,  Argyle, 
Her  hope,  her  stay,  her  darling,  and  her  boast, 
From  her  first  patriots  and  her  heroes  sprung, 
Thy  fond  imploring  country  turns  her  eye  ; 
In  thee,  with  all  a  mother's  triumph,  sees 
Her  every  virtue,  every  grace  combin'd, 
Her  genius,  wisdom,  her  engaging  turn, 
Her  pride  of  honour,  and  her  courage  tried, 
Calm,  and  intrepid,  in  the  very  throat 
Of  sulphurous  war,  on  Tenier's  dreadful  field. 
Nor  less  the  palm  of  peace  inwreathes  thy  brow  : 
For,  powerful  as  thy  sword,  from  thy  rich  tongue 
Persuasion  flows,  and  wins  the  high  debate  ; 
While  mix'd  in  thee  combines  the  charm  of  youth, 
The  force  of  manhood,  and  the  depth  of  age. 
Thee,  Forbes,  too,  whom  every  worth  attends, 
As  truth  sincere,  as  weeping  friendship  kind, 
Thee,  truly  generous,  and  in  silence  great, 
Thy  country  feels  through  her  reviving  arts, 
Plann'd  by  thy  wisdom,  by  thy  soul  inform'd  ; 


AUTUMN.  157 

And  seldom  has  she  known  a  friend  like  thee. 

But  see  the  fading  many-colour'd  woods, 
Shade  deepening  over  shade,  the  country  round 
Imbrown  ;  a  crowded  umbrage,  dusk,  and  dun, 
Of  every  hue,  from  wan  declining  green 
To  sooty  dark.     These  now  the  lonesome  Muse, 
Low-whispering,  lead  into  their  leaf-strown  walks, 
And  give  the  Season  in  its  latest  view. 

Meantime,  light-shadowing  all,  a  sober  calm 
Fleeces  unbounded  ether  :  whose  least  wave 
Stands  tremulous,  uncertain  where  to  turn 
The  gentle  current :  while  illumin'd  wide, 
The  dewy-skirted  clouds  imbibe  the  sun. 
And  through  their  lucid  veil  his  soften'd  force 
Shed  o'er  the  peaceful  world.     Then  is  the  time, 
For  those  whom  Wisdom  and  whom  Nature  charm, 
To  steal  themselves  from  the  degenerate  crowd, 
And  soar  above  this  little  scene  of  things  : 
To  tread  low-thoughted  Vice  beneath  their  feet ; 
To  sooth  the  throbbing  passions  into  peace  ; 
And  woo  lone  Quiet  in  her  silent  walks. 

Thus  solitary,  andjn  pensive  guise, 
Oft  let  me  wander  o'er  therussel  mead, 
And  through  the  sadden'd  grove,  where  scarce  is  heard 
One  dying  strain,  to  cheer  the  woodman's  toil. 
Haply  some  widow'd  songster  pours  his  plaint, 
Far,  in  faint  warblings,  through  the  tawny  copse  : 
While  congregated  thrushes,  linnets,  larks, 
And  each  wild  throat,  whose  artless  strains  so  late 


158  THE   SEASONS. 

Swell'd  all  the  music  of  the  swarming  shades, 
Robb'd  of  their  tuneful  souls,  now  shivering  sit 
On  the  dead  tree,  a  dull  despondent  flock  ; 
With  not  a  brightness  waving  o'er  their  plumes, 
And  nought  save  chattering  discord  in  their  note. 
O  let  not,  aini'd  from  some  inhuman  eye, 
The  gun  the  music  of  the  coming  year 
Destroy ;  and  harmless,  unsuspecting  harm, 
Lay  the  weak  tribes  a  miserable  prey, 
In  mingled  murder,  fluttering  on  the  ground  ! 

The  pale-descending  year,  yet  pleasing  still, 
A  gentler  mood  inspires  ;  for  now  the  leaf 
Incessant  rustles  from  the  moumful  grove  ; 
Oft  startling  such  as,  studious,  walk  below, 
And  slowly  circles  through  the  waving  air. 
But  should  a  quicker  breeze  amid  the  boughs 
Sob,  o'er  the  sky  the  leafy  deluge  streams  ; 
Till  chok'd,  and  matted  with  the  dreary  shower, 
The  forest- walks,  at  every  rising  gale, 
Koll  wide  the  wither'd  waste,  and  whistle  bleak. 
Fled  is  the  blasted  verdure  of  the  fields  ; 
And,  shrunk  into  their  beds,  the  flowery  race 
Their  sunny  robes  resign.     Ev'n  what  remain'd 
Of  stronger  fruits  falls  from  the  naked  tree  ; 
And  woods,  fields,  gardens,  orchards,  all  around 
The  desolated  prospect  thrills  the  soul. 

He  comes  !  he  comes  !  in  every  breeze  the  Power 
\  Of  Philosophic  Melancholy  comes  ! 
'His  near  appi'oach  the  sudden-starting  tear, 


ACTUMN.  159 

The  glowing  cheek,  the  mild  dejected  air, 

The  soften'd  feature,  and  the  beating  heart, 

Pierc'd  deep  with  many  a  virtuous  pang,  declare. 

O'er  «]1  tfre  sn\\\  hiajacrgd  influence  breathes  ! 

Inflames  imagination  ;  through  the  breast 

Infuses  every  tenderness  ;  and  far 

Beyond  dim  earth  exalts  the  swelling  thought. 

Ten  thousand  thousand  fleet  ideas,  such 

As  never  mingled  with  the  vulgar  dream, 

Crowd  fast  into  the  mind's  creative  eye. 

As  fast  the  correspondent  passions  rise, 

As  varied,  and  as  high  :  Devotion  rais'd 

To  rapture,  and  divine  astonishment ; 

The  love  of  Nature  unconfin'd,  and,  chief, 

Of  human  race  ;  the  large  ambitious  wish, 

To  make  them  blest ;  the  sigh  for  suffering  worth 

Lost  in  obscurity  ;  the  noble  scorn 

Of  tyrant-pride  ;  the  fearless  great  resolve  ; 

The  wonder  which  the  dying  patriot  draws, 

Inspiring  glory  through  remotest  time  ; 

Th'  awaken'd  throb  of  virtue,  and  for  fame  ; 

The  sympathies  of  love,  and  friendship  dear  : 

With  all  the  social  offspring  of  the  heart. 

Oh  !  bear  me  then  to  vast  embowering  shades, 
Tjo  twilight  groves,  and  visionary  vales  ; 
To  weeping  grottoes,  and  prophetic  glooms  ; 
Where  angel  forms  athwart  the  solemn  dusk 
Tremendous  sweep,  or  seem  to  sweep  along  ; 
And  voices  more  than  human,  through  the  void 


160  THE   SEASONS. 

Deep-sounding,  seize  th'  enthusiastic  ear ! 

Or  is  this  gloom  too  much  ?    Then  lead,  ye  powers, 
That  o'er  the  garden  and  the  rural  seat 
Preside,  which  shining  through  the  cheerful  land 
In  countless  numbers  blest  Britannia  sees  ; 
O  lead  me  to  the  wide-extended  walks, 
The  fair  majestic  paradise  of  Stowe !  * 
Nor  Persian  Cyrus  on  Ionia's  shore 
E'er  saw  such  silvan  scenes  ;  such  various  art 
By  genius  fir'd,  such  ardent  genius  tam'd 
By  cool  judicious  art ;  that,  in  the  strife, 
All-beauteous  Nature  fears  to  be  outdone. 
And  there,  O  Pitt,  thy  country's  early  boast, 
There  let  me  sit  beneath  the  shelter'd  slopes, 
Or  in  that  Temple  t  where,  in  future  times, 
Thou  well  shalt  merit  a  distinguish'd  name  ; 
And,  with  thy  converse  blest,  catch  the  last  smiles 
Of  Autumn  beaming  o'er  the  yellow  woods. 
While  there  with  thee  th'  enchanted  round  I  walk, 
The  regulated  wild,  gay  Fancy  then 
Will  tread  in  thought  the  groves  of  attic  land  ; 
Will  from  thy  standard  taste  refine  her  own, 
Correct  her  pencil  to  the  purest  truth 
Of  Nature,  or,  the  unimpassion'd  shades 
Forsaking,  raise  it  to  the  human  mind. 
Or  if  hereafter  she,  with  juster  hand, 
Shall  draw  the  tragic  scene,  instruct  her,  thou, 

*  The  seat  of  Lord  Cobham. 
t  The  Temple  of  Virtue  in  Stowe  Gardens. 


AUTUMN.  161 

To  mark  ihe  varied  movements  of  the  heart, 
What  every  decent  character  requires, 
And  every  passion  speaks  :  O  through  her  strain 
Breathe  thy  pathetic  eloquence  !  that  moulds 
Th'  attentive  senate,  charms,  persuades,  exalts, 
Of  honest  Zeal  th'  indignant  lightning  throws, 
And  shakes  Corruption  on  her  venal  throne. 
While  thus  we  talk,  and  through  Elysian  vales 
Delighted  rove,  perhaps  a  sigh  escapes  : 
What  pity,  Cobham,  thou  thy  verdant  files 
Of  orderM  trees  shouldst  here  inglorious  range, 
Instead  of  squadrons  flaming  o'er  the  field, 
And  long  embattled  hosts  !  when  the  proud  foe, 
The  faithless  vain  disturber  of  mankind, 
Insulting  Gaul,  has  rous'd  the  world  to  war  ; 
When  keen,  once  more,  within  their  bounds  to  press 
Those  polish'd  robbers,  those  ambitious  slaves, 
The  British  youth  would  hail  thy  wise  command, 
Thy  temper'd  ardour  and  thy  veteran  skill. 

The  western  sun  withdraws  the  shortened  day  ; 
And  humid  Evening,  gliding  o'er  the  sky, 
In  her  chill  progress,  to  the  ground  condens'd 
The  vapour  throws.     Where  creeping  waters  ooze, 
Where  mai-shes  stagnate,  and  where  rivers  wind, 
Cluster  the  rolling  fogs,  and  swim  along 
The  dusky-mantled  lawn.     Meanwhile  the  Moon 
Full-orb'd,  and  breaking  through  the  scatter'd  clouds, 
Shows  her  broad  visage  in  the  erimson'd  east- 
Turn'd  to  the  sun  direct,  her  spotted  disk, 


162  THE  SEASONS. 

Where  mountains  rise,  umbrageous  dales  descend, 

And  caverns  deep,  as  optic  tube  descries, 

A  smaller  earth,  gives  us  his  blaze  again, 

Void  of  its  flame,  and  sheds  a  softer  day. 

Now  through  the  passing  cloud  she  seems  to  stoop, 

Now  up  the  pure  cerulean  rides  sublime. 

Wide  the  pale  deluge  floats,  and  streaming  mild 

O'er  the  sky'd  mountain  to  the  shadowy  vale, 

While  rocks  and  floods  reflect  the  quivering  gleam, 

The  whole  air  whitens  with  a  boundless  tide 

Of  silver  radiance,  trembling  round  the  world. 

But  when  half  blotted  from  the  sky  her  light, 
Fainting,  permits  the  starry  fires  to  burn 
With  keener  lustre  through  the  depth  of  heaven  ; 
Or  near  extinct  her  deaden'd  orb  appears, 
And  scarce  appears,  of  sickly  beamless  white  ; 
Oft  in  this  season,  silent  from  the  north 
A  blaze  of  meteors  shoots  :  ensweeping  first 
The  lower  skies,  they  all  at  once  converge 
High  to  the  crown  of  heaven,  and  all  at  once 
Relapsing  quick  as  quickly  reascend, 
And  mix,  and  thwart,  extinguish,  and  renew, 
All  ether  coursing  in  a  maze  of  light. 

From  look  to  look,  contagious  through  the  crowd, 
The  panic  runs,  and  into  wondrous  shapes 
Th'  appearance  throws  :  armies  in  meet  array, 
Throng'd  with  aerial  spears,  and  steeds  of  fire  ; 
Till  the  long  lines  of  full-extended  war 
In  bleeding  fight  commixt,  the  sanguine  flood 


AUTUMN.  163 

Rolls  a  broad  slaughter  o'er  the  plains  of  heaven. 

As  thus  they  scan  the  visionary  scene, 

On  all  sides  swells  the  superstitious  din, 

Incontinent ;  and  busy  frenzy  talks 

Of  blood  and  battle  ;  cities  overturn'd, 

And  late  at  night  in  swallowing  earthquake  sunk, 

Or  hideous  wrapt  in  fierce  ascending  flame  ; 

Of  sallow  famine,  inundation,  storm  ; 

Of  pestilence,  and  every  great  distress  ; 

Empires  subvers'd,  when  ruling  fate  has  struck 

Th'  unalterable  hour  :  ev'n  Nature's  self 

Is  deem'd  to  totter  on  the  brink  of  time. 

Not  so  the  man  of  philosophic  eye, 

And  inspect  sage ;  the  waving  brightness  he 

Curious  surveys,  inquisitive  to  know 

The  causes,  and  materials,  yet  unfix'd, 

Of  this  appearance,  beautiful  and  new. 

Now  black,  and  deep,  the  night  begins  to  fall, 
A  shade  immense.     Sunk  in  the  quenching  gloom, 
Magnificent  and  vast,  are  heaven  and  earth. 
Order  confounded  lies  ;  all  beauty  void  ; 
Distinction  lost ;  and  gay  variety 
One  universal  blot :  such  the  fair  power 
Of  light,  to  kindle  and  create  the  whole. 
Drear  is  the  state  of  the  benighted  wretch, 
Who  then,  bewilder'd,  wanders  through  the  dark, 
Full  of  pale  fancies,  and  chimeras  huge  ; 
Nor  visited  by  one  directive  ray, 
From  cottage  streaming,  or  from  airy  hall. 


164  THE   SEASONS. 

Perhaps  impatient  as  he  stumbles  on, 
Struck  from  the  root  of  slimy  rushes,  blue, 
The  wild-fire  scatters  round,  or  gather'd  trails 
A  length  of  flame  deceitful  o'er  the  moss  : 
Whither  decoy'd  by  the  fantastic  blaze, 
Now  lost  and  now  renew'd,  he  sinks  absorpt, 
Eider  and  horse,  amid  the  miry  gulf  : 
While  still,  from  day  to  day,  his  pining  wife 
And  plaintive  children  his  return  await, 
In  wild  conjecture  lost.     At  other  times, 
Sent  by  the  better  genius  of  the  night, 
Innoxious,  gleaming  on  the  horse's  mane, 
The  meteor  sits  ;  and  shows  the  narrow  path, 
That  winding  leads  through  pits  of  death,  or  else 
Instructs  him  how  to  take  the  dangerous  ford. 

The  lengthen'd  night  elaps'd,  the  morning  shines 
Serene,  in  all  her  dewy  beauty  bright, 
Unfolding  fair  the  last  autumnal  day. 
And  now  the  mounting  sun  dispels  the  fog  ; 
The  rigid  hoar-frost  melts  before  his  beam  ; 
And  hung  on  every  spray,  on  every  blade 
Of  grass,  the  myriad  dew-drops  twinkle  round. 

Ah,  see  where  robb'd,  and  murder'd,  in  that  pit 
Lies  the  still  heaving  hive  !  at  evening  snatch'd, 
Beneath  the  cloud  of  guilt-concealing  night, 
And  fix'd  o'er  sulphur  :  while,  not  dreaming  ill 
The  happy  people  in  their  waxen  cells, 
Sat  tending  public  cares,  and  planning  schemes 
Of  temperance,  for  Winter  poor  ;  rejoic'd 


AUTUMN.  165 

To  mark,  full  flowing  round,  their  copious  stores. 
Sudden  the  dark  oppressive  steam  asc  Jiids  ; 
And,  used  to  milder  scents,  the  tender  race, 
By  thousands,  tumble  from  their  honied  domes, 
Convolv'd,  and  agonizing  in  the  dust. 
And  was  it  then  for  this  you  roam'd  the  Spring, 
Intent  from  flower  to  flower  ?  for  this  you  toil'd 
Ceaseless  the  burning  Summer-heats  away  ? 
For  this  in  Autumn  search'd  the  blooming  waste, 
Nor  lost  one  sunny  gleam  ?  for  this  sad  fate  ? 
O  Man  !  tyrannic  lord  !  how  long,  how  long 
Shall  prostrate  Nature  groan  beneath  your  rage, 
Awaiting  renovation  ?  when  oblig'd, 
Must  you  destroy  ?  of  their  ambrosial  food 
Can  you  not  borrow  ;  and,  in  just  return, 
Afford  them  shelter  from  the  wintry  winds  ; 
Or,  as  the  sliarp  year  pinches,  with  their  own 
Again  regale  them  on  some  smiling  day  ? 
See  where  the  stony  bottom  of  their  town 
Looks  desolate,  and  wild  ;  with  here  and  there 
A  helpless  number,  who  the  ruiu'd  state 
Survive,  lamenting  weak,  cast  out  to  death. 
Thus  a  proud  city,  populous  and  rich, 
Full  of  the  works  of  peace,  and  high  in  joy, 
At  theatre  or  feast,  or  sunk  in  sleep, 
(As  late,  Palermo,  was  thy  fate)  is  seiz'd 
By  some  dread  earthquake,  and  convulsive  hurl'd 
Sheer  from  the  black  foundation,  stench-involv'd, 
Into  a  gulf  of  blue  sulphureous  flame. 


166  THE   SEASONS. 

Heixce  every  harsher  sight !  for  now  the  day, 
O'er  heaven  and  earth  diffus'd,  grows  warm  and  high, 
Infinite  splendour  !  wide  investing  all. 
How  still  the  breeze  !  save  what  the  filmy  threads 
Of  dew  evaporate  brushes  from  the  plain. 
How  clear  the  cloudless  sky  !  how  deeply  ting'd 
With  a  peculiar  blue  !  th'  ethereal  arch 
How  swell'd  immense  !  amid  whose  azure  thron'd 
The  radiant  sun  how  gay !  how  calm  below 
The  gilded  earth  !  the  harvest-treasures  all 
Now  gather'd  in,  beyond  the  rage  of  storms, 
Sure  to  the  swain  ;  the  circling  fence  shut  up ; 
And  instant  Winter's  utmost  rage  defied. 
While,  loose  to  festive  joy,  the  country  round 
Laughs  with  the  loud  sincerity  of  mirth, 
Shook  to  the  wind  their  cares.    The  toil-strung  youth, 
By  the  quick  sense  of  music  taught  alone, 
Leaps  wildly  graceful  in  the  lively  dance. 
Her  every  charm  abroad,  the  village-toast, 
Young,  buxom,  warm,  in  native  beauty  rich, 
Darts  not  unmeaning  looks  ;  and,  where  her  eye 
Points  an  approving  smile,  with  double  force, 
The  cudgel  rattles,  and  the  wrestler  twines. 
Age,  too,  shines  out ;  and,  garrulous,  recounts 
The  feats  of  youth.     Thus  they  rejoice  ;  nor  think 
That,  with  to-morrow's  sun,  their  annual  toil 
Begins  again  the  never-ceasing  round. 

Oh,  knew  he  but  his  happiness,  of  men 
The  happiest  he  !  who  far  from  public  rage, 


AUTUMN.  167 

Deep  in  the  vale,  with  a  choice  few  retirtt, 

Drinks  the  pure  pleasures  of  the  Rural  Life. 

What  though  the  dome  be  wanting,  whose  proud  gate, 

Each  morning,  vomits  out  the  sneaking  crowd 

Of  flatterers  false,  and  in  their  turn  abus'd  ? 

Vile  intercourse  !  what  though  the  glittering  robe 

Of  every  hue  reflected  light  can  give, 

Or  floating  loose,  or  stiff  with  mazy  gold, 

The  pride  and  gaze  of  fools  !  oppress  him  not  ? 

What  though,  from  utmost  land  and  sea  purvey'd, 

For  him  each  rarer  tributary  life 

Bleeds  not,  and  his  insatiate  table  heaps 

With  luxury,  and  death  ?    What  though  his  bowl 

Flames  not  with  costly  juice  ;  nor  sunk  in  beds, 

Oft  of  gay  care,  he  tosses  out  the  night, 

Or  melts  the  thoughtless  hours  in  idle  state  ? 

What  though  he  knows  not  those  fantastic  joys, 

That  still  amuse  the  wanton,  still  deceive  ; 

A  face  of  pleasure,  but  a  heart  of  pain  ; 

Their  hollow  moments  undelighted  all  ? 

Sure  peace  is  his  ;  a  solid  life,  estrang'd 

To  disappointment,  and  fallacious  hope  : 

Rich  in  content,  in  Nature's  bounty  rich, 

In  herbs  and  fruits  ;  whatever  greens  the  Spring, 

When  heaven  descends  in  showers ;  or  bends  the  bough, 

When  summer  reddens,  and  when  Autumn  beams  ; 

Or  in  the  wintry  glebe  whatever  lies 

Conceal'd,  and  fattens  with  the  richest  sap, 

These  are  not  wanting  ;  nor  the  milky  drove, 


168  THE   SEASONS. 

Luxuriant,  spread  o'er  all  the  lowing  vale  ; 
Nor  bleating  mountains  ;  nor  the  chide  of  streams 
And  hum  of  bees,  inviting  sleep  sincere 
Into  the  guiltless  breast,  beneath  the  shade, 
Or  thrown  at  large  amid  the  fragrant  hay  ; 
Nor  aught  besides  of  prospect,  grove,  or  song, 
Dim  grottoes,  gleaming  lakes,  and  fountain  clear. 
Here  too  dwells  simple  Truth  ;  plain  Innocence ; 
Unsullied  Beauty  ;  sound  unbroken  Youth, 
Patient  of  labour,  with  a  little  pleas'd  ; 
Health  ever  blooming  ;  unambitious  Toil ; 
Calm  Contemplation,  and  poetic  Ease. 

Let  others  brave  the  flood  in  quest  of  gain, 
And  beat,  for  joyless  months,  the  gloomy  wave. 
Let  such  as  deem  it  glory  to  destroy, 
Bush  into  blood,  the  sack  of  cities  seek  ; 
Unpierc'd,  exulting  in  the  widow's  wail,- 
The  virgin's  shriek,  and  infant's  trembling  cry. 
Let  some,  far  distant  from  their  native  soil, 
Urg'd  or  by  want  or  harden'd  avarice. 
Find  other  lands  beneath  another  sun. 
Let  this  through  cities  work  his  eager  way, 
By  legal  outrage  and  establish'd  guile, 
The  social  sense  extinct ;  and  that  ferment 
Mad  into  tumult  the  seditious  herd, 
Or  melt  them  down  to  slavery.     Let  these 
Insnare  the  wretched  in  the  toils  of  law, 
Fomenting  discord,  and  perplexing  right, 
An  iron  race  !  and  those  of  fairer  front, 


AUTDMN.  169 

But  equal  inhumanity,  in  courts, 

Delusive  pomp  and  dark  cabals,  delight ; 

Wreathe  the  deep  bow,  diffuse  the  lying  smile, 

And  tread  the  weary  labyrinth  of  state. 

While  he,  from  all  the  stormy  passions  free, 

That  restless  men  involve,  hears,  and  but  hears, 

At  distance  safe,  the  human  tempest  roar, 

Wrapt  close  in  conscious  peace.     The  fall  of  kings, 

The  rage  of  nations,  and  the  crush  of  states, 

Move  not  the  man,  who,  from  the  world  escap'd, 

In  still  retreats,  and  flowery  solitudes, 

To  Nature's  voice  attends,  from  month  to  month, 

And  day  to  day,  through  the  revolving  year  ; 

Admiring,  sees  her  in  her  every  shape  ; 

Feels  all  her  sweet  emotions  at  his  heart : 

Takes  what  she  liberal  gives,  nor  thinks  of  more. 

He,  when  young  Spring  protrudes  the  bursting  gems, 

Marks  the  first  bud,  and  sucks  the  healthful  gale 

Into  his  freshen'd  soul ;  her  genial  hours 

He  full  enjoys  ;  and  not  a  beauty  blows, 

And  not  an  opening  blossom  breathes  in  vain. 

In  Summer  he,  beneath  the  living  shade, 

Such  ?is  o'er  frigid  Tenipe  wont  to  wave, 

Or  Hemus  cool,  reads  what  the  Muse,  of  these, 

Perhajw,  has  in  immortal  numbers  sung  ; 

Or  what  she  dictates  writes  :  and,  oft  an  eye 

Shot  round,  rejoices  in  the  vigorous  year. 

Wl ii'ii  Autumn's  yellow  lustre  gilds  the  world, 

And  tempts  the  sickled  twain  into  the  field, 


170  THE  SEASONS. 

Seiz'd  by  the  general  joy,  his  heart  distends 
With  gentle  throes  ;  and,  through  the  tepid  gleams 
Deep  musing,  then  he  best  exerts  his  song. 
Ev'n  Winter  wild  to  him  is  full  of  bliss. 
The  mighty  tempest,  and  the  hoary  waste, 
Abrupt,  and  deep,  stretch'd  o'er  the  buried  earth, 
Awake  to  solemn  thought.     At  night  the  skies, 
Disclos'd,  and  kindled,  by  refining  frost, 
Pour  every  lustre  on  th'  exalted  eye. 
A  friend,  a  book,  the  stealing  hours  secure, 
And  mark  them  down  for  wisdom.     With  swift  wing 
O'er  land  and  sea  imagination  roams  ; 
Or  truth,  divinely  breaking  on  his  mind, 
Elates  his  being,  and  unfolds  his  powers  ; 
Or  in  his  breast  heroic  virtue  burns. 
The  touch  of  kindred  too  and  love  he  feels  ; 
The  modest  eye,  whose  beams  on  his  alone 
Ecstatic  shine  ;  the  little  strong  embrace 
Of  prattling  children,  twin'd  around  his  neck, 
And  emulous  to  please  him,  calling  forth 
The  fond  parental  soul.     Nor  purpose  gay, 
Amusement,  dance,  or  song,  he  sternly  scorns  ; 
For  happiness  and  true  philosophy 
Are  of  the  social,  still,  and  smiling  kind. 
This  is  the  life  which  those  who  fret  in  guilt, 
And  guilty  cities,  never  knew  ;  the  life, 
Led  by  primeval  ages,  uncorrupt, 
When  Angels  dwelt,  and  GOD  himself,  with  Man  ! 
Oh,  Nature  !  all-sufficient !  over  all  ! 


AUTUMN. 

Enrich  me  with  the  knowledge  of  thy  works  ! 

Snatch  me  to  heaven  ;  thy  rolling  wonders  there 

World  beyoiid  world,  in  infinite  extent, 

Profusely  scatter^  o'er  the  blue  immense, 

Show  me  ;  their  motions,  periods,  and  their  laws, 

Give  me  to  scan  ;  through  the  disclosing  deep 

Light  my  blind  way  :  the  mineral  strata  there  ; 

Thrust,  blooming,  thence  the  vegetable  world  ; 

O'er  that  the  rising  system,  more  complex, 

Of  animals ;  and  higher  still,  the  mind, 

The  varied  scene  of  quick-compounded  thought, 

And  where  the  mixing  passions  endless  shift ; 

These  ever  open  to  my  ravished  eye  ; 

A  search,  the  flight  of  time  can  ne'er  exhaust ! 

But  if  to  that  unequal ;  if  the  blood, 

In  sluggish  streams  about  my  heart,  forbid 

That  best  ambition  ;  under  closing  shades, 

Inglorious,  lay  me  by  the  lowly  brook, 

And  whisper  to  my  dreams.    From  Thee  begin, 

Dwell  all  on  Thee,  with  Thee  conclude  my  song  ; 

And  let  me  never,  never  stray  from  Thee  ! 


171 


The  subject  proposed.  Address  to  the  Earl  of  Wilmington. 
First  approach  of  Winter.  According  to  the  natural  course 
of  the  season,  various  storms  described.  Rain.  Wind. 
Snow.  The  driving  of  the  snows :  a  man  perishing  among 
them  ;  whence  reflections  on  the  wants  and  miseries  of 
human  life.  The  wolves  descending  from  the  Alps  and 
Apennines.  A  winter  evening  described :  as  spent  by 
philosophers ;  by  the  country  people ;  in  the  city.  Frost. 
A  view  of  Winter  within  the  polar  circle.  A  thaw.  The 
whole  concluding  with  moral  reflections  on  a  future  state. 


_arucl  down  te  sinks 


Beneath  the  shelter  of  the  shapelefs  drift 
ThinMag-  o'er  aH   the  titternefs  of  death.. 


By  RK11AHD  "WES1  A1,L.X.A.>',NGX.A\'EI)  BY  CfiAEU^KS  -ROLIS 


WINTER. 


SEE,  WINTER  comes,  to  rule  the  varied  year, 
Sullen  and  si«l,  with  all  his  rising  train  ; 
Vapours,  and  Clouds,  and  Storms.     Be  these  my  theme, 
These  !  that  exalt  the  soul  to  solemn  thought, 
And  heavenly  musing.     Welcome,  kindred  glooms, 
Congenial  horrors,  hail !  with  frequent  foot, 
Pleas'd  have  I,  in  my  cheerful  morn  of  life, 
When  nurs'd  by  careless  Solitude  I  liv'd, 
And  sung  of  Nature  with  unceasing  joy, 
Pleas'd  have  I  wander'd  through  your  rough  domain  ; 
Trod  the  pure  virgin-snows,  myself  as  pure  ; 
Heard  the  winds  roar,  and  the  big  torrent  burst ; 
Or  seen  the  deep- fermenting  tempest  brew'd, 
In  the  grim  evening  sky.     Thus  pass'd  the  time, 
Till  through  the  lucid  chambers  of  the  south 
Look'd  out  the  joyous  Spring,  look'd  out,  and  smil'd. 

To  thee,  the  patron  of  her  first  essay, 
The  Muse,  O  Wilmington  !  renews  her  song. 
Since  has  she  rounded  the  revolving  year  : 
Skimm'd  the  gay  Spring  ;  on  eagle  pinions  borne, 
Attempted  through  the  Summer-blaze  to  rise  ; 
Then  swept  o'er  Autumn  with  the  shadowy  gale  ; 


174  THE   SEASONS. 

And  now  among  the  wintry  clouds  again, 
Roll'd  in  the  doubling  storm,  she  tries  to  soar  ; 
To  swell  her  note  with  all  the  rushing  winds  ; 
To  suit  her  sounding  cadence  to  the  floods  ; 
As  is  her  theme,  her  numbers  wildly  great : 
Thrice  happy  could  'she  fill  thy  judging  ear 
"With  bold  description,  and  with  manly  thought 
Nor  art  thou  skill'd  in  awful  schemes  alone, 
And  how  to  make  a  mighty  people  thrive  : 
But  equal  goodness,  sound  integrity, 
A  firm  unshaken  uncormpted  soul 
Amid  a  sliding  age,  and  burning  strong, 
Not  vainly  blazing,  for  thy  country's  weal, 
A  steady  spirit  regularly  free  ; 
These,  each  exalting  each,  the  statesman  light 
Into  the  patriot ;  these,  the  public  hope 
And  eye  to  thee  converting,  bid  the  Muse 
Record  what  envy  dares  not  flattery  call. 

Now  when  the  cheerless  empire  of  the  sky 
To  Capricorn  the  Centaur  Archer  yields, 
And  fierce  Aquarius,  stains  th'  inverted  year ; 
Hung  o'er  the  furthest  verge  of  heaven,  the  sun 
Scarce  spreads  through  ether  the  dejected  day. 
Faint  are  his  gleams  and  ineffectual  shoot 
His  struggling  rays,  in  horizontal  lines, 
Through  the  thick  air  :  as  clothed  in  cloudy  storm, 
Weak,  wan,  and  broad,  he  skirts  the  southern  sky  ; 
And,  soon-descending,  to  the  long  dark  night, 
Wide-shading  all,  the  prostrate  world  resigns. 


WINTER.  175 

Nor  is  the  night  unwish'd  ;  while  vital  heat, 
Light,  life,  and  joy,  the  dubious  day  forsake. 
Meantime,  in  sable  cincture,  shadows  vast, 
Deep-ting"d  and  damp,  and  congregated  clouds, 
And  all  the  vapoury  turbulence  of  heaven, 
Involve  the  face  of  things.    Thus  Winter  falls, 
A  heavy  gloom  oppressive  o'er  the  world, 
Through  Nature  shedding  influence  malign, 
And  rouses  up  the  seeds  of  dark  disease. 
The  soul  of  man  dies  in  him,  loathing  life, 
And  black  with  more  tlian  melancholy  views. 
The  cattle  droop  ;  and  o'er  the  furrow'd  land, 
Fresh  from  the  plough,  the  dun  discolonr'd  flocks, 
Untended  spreading,  crop  the  wholesome  root. 
Along  the  woods,  along  the  moorish  fens, 
Sighs  the  sad  Genius  of  the  coming  storm  : 
And  up  among  the  loose  disjointed  cliffs, 
And  f  nut  iirM  mountains  wild,  the  brawling  brook 
And  cave,  presageful,  send  a  hollow  moan, 
Resounding  long  in  listening  Fancy's  ear. 

Then  comes  the  father  of  the  tempest  forth, 
Wrapt  in  black  glooms.     First  joyless  rains  obscure 
Drive  through  the  mingling  skies  with  vapour  foul ; 
Dash  on  the  mountain's  brow,  and  shake  the  woods, 
That  grumbling  wave  below.     Th'  unsightly  plain 
Lies  a  brown  deluge  ;  as  the  low-bent  clouds 
Pour  flood  on  flood,  yet  unexhausted  still 
Combine,  and  deepening  into  night  shut  up 
The  day's  fair  face.     The  wanderers  of  heaven, 


176  TTIE   SEASONS. 

Each  to  his  home,  retire  ;  save  those  that  love 

To  take  their  pastime  in  the  troubled  air, 

Or  skimming  flutter  round  the  dimply  pool. 

The  cattle  from  the  untasted  fields  return, 

And  ask,  with  meaning  lowe,  their  wonted  stalls, 

Or  ruminate  in  the  contiguous  shade. 

Thither  the  household  feathery  people  crowd, 

The  crested  cock,  with  all  his  female  train, 

Pensive,  and  dripping  ;  while  the  cottage-hind 

Hangs  o'er  th'  enlivening  blaze,  and  taleful  there 

Recounts  his  simple  frolic  :  much  he  talks, 

And  much  he  laughs,  nor  recks  the  storm  that  blows 

Without,  and  rattles  on  his  humble  roof. 

Wide  o'er  the  brim,  with  many  a  torrent  swell'd, 
And  the  mix'd  ruin  of  its  banks  o'erspread, 
At  last  the  rous'd-up  river  pours  along  : 
Resistless,  roaring,  dreadful,  down  it  comes, 
From  the  rude  mountain,  and  the  mossy  wild, 
Tumbling  through  rocks  abrupt,  and  sounding  far  ; 
Then  o'er  the  sanded  valley  floating  spreads, 
Calm,  sluggish,  silent ;  till  again,  constrain'd 
Between  two  meeting  hills,  it  bursts  away, 
Where  rocks  and  woods  o'erhang  the  turbid  stream  ; 
There  gathering  triple  force,  rapid  and  deep, 
It  boils,  and  wheels,  and  foams,  and  thunders  through 

Nature  !  great  parent,  whose  unceasing  hand 
!  Rolls  round  the  Seasons  of  the  changeful  year, 
How  mighty,  how  majestic,  are  thy  works  ! 
With  what  a  pleasing  dread  they  swell  the  soul  ! 


WINTER.  177 

That  Bees  astouish'd  !  and  astonish'd  sings  ! 
Ye  too,  ye  winds  !  that  now  begin  to  blow 
With  boisterous  sweep,  I  raise  my  voice  to  you. 
Where  are  your  stores,  ye  powerful  beings  !  say, 
Where  your  aerial  magazines  reserv'd, 
To  swell  the  brooding  terrors  of  the  storm  ? 
In  what  far-distant  region  of  the  sky, 
Hush'd  in  deep  silence,  sleep  ye  when  'tis  calm  ? 

When  from  the  pallid  sky  the  sun  descends, 
With  many  a  spot,  that  o'er  his  glaring  orb 
Uncertain  wanders,  stain'd  ;  red  fiery  streaks 
Begin  to  flush  around.    The  reeling  clouds 
Stagger  with  dizzy  poise,  as  doubting  yet 
Which  master  to  obey  :  while  rising  slow, 
Blank,  in  the  leaden-colour'd  east,  the  moon 
Wears  a  wan  circle  round  her  blunted  horns. 
Seen  through  the  turbid  fluctuating  air, 
The  stars  obtuse  emit  a  shivered  ray  ; 
Or  frequent  seem  to  shoot  athwart  the  gloom, 
And  long  behind  them  trail  the  whitening  blaze. 
Snatch'd  in  short  eddies,  plays  the  witherM  leaf ; 
And  on  the  flood  the  dancing  feather  floats. 
With  broaden'd  nostrils  to  the  sky  up-turn'd, 
The  conscious  heifer  snuffs  the  stormy  gale. 
Ev'n  as  the  matron,  at  her  nightly  task, 
With  pensive  labour  draws  the  flaxen  thread, 
The  wasted  taper  and  the  crackling  flame 
Foretell  the  blast.    But  chief  the  plumy  race, 
The  tenants  of  the  sky,  its  changes  speak. 


178  THE  SEASONS. 

Retiring  from  the  downs,  where  all  day  long 
They  pick'd  their  scanty  fare,  a  blackening  train 
Of  clamorous  rooks  thick  urge  their  weary  flight, 
And  seek  the  closing  shelter  of  the  grove  ; 
Assiduous,  in  his  bower,  the  wailing  owl 
Plies  his  sad  song.     The  cormorant  on  high 
Wheels  from  the  deep,  and  screams  along  the  land. 
Loud  shrieks  the  soaring  hern  ;  and  with  wild  wing 
The  circling  sea-fowl  cleave  the  flaky  clouds. 
Ocean,  unequal  press'd  with  broken  tide 
And  blind  commotion  heaves  ;  while  from  the  shor 
Eat  into  caverns  by  the  restless  wave, 
And  forest- rustling  mountain,  comes  a  voice, 
That  solemn  sounding  bids  the  world  prepare. 
Then  issues  forth  the  storm  with  sudden  burst, 
And  hurls  the  whole  precipitated  air 
Down,  in  a  torrent.     On  the  passive  main, 
Descends  th'  ethereal  force,  and  with  strong  gust 
Turns  from  its  bottom  the  discolour'd  deep. 
Through  the  black  night  that  sits  immense  around, 
Lash'd  into  foam,  the  fierce  conflicting  brine 
Seems  o'er  a  thousand  raging  waves  to  burn  : 
Meantime  the  mountain-billows,  to  the  clouds 
In  dreadful  tumult  swell'd,  surge  above  surge 
Burst  into  chaos  with  tremendous  roar, 
And  anchor'd  navies  from  their  stations  drive, 
Wild  as  the  winds  across  the  howling  waste 
Of  mighty  waters  :  now  th'  inflated  wave 
Straining  they  scale,  and  now  impetuous  shoot 


WINTKB.  179 

Into  the  secret  chambers  of  the  deep, 

The  wintry  Baltic  thundering  o'er  their  head. 

Emerging  thence  again,  before  the  breath 

Of  full-exerted  heaven  they  wing  their  course, 

And  dart  on  distant  coasts  ;  if  some  sharp  rock, 

Or  shoal  insidious  break  not  their  career, 

And  in  loose  fragments  fling  them  floating  round. 

Nor  less  at  hand  the  loosen'd  tempest  reigns. 
The  mountain  thunders  ;  and  its  sturdy  sons 
Stoop  to  the  bottom  of  the  rocks  they  shade. 
Lone  on  the  midnight  steep,  and  all  aghast, 
The  dark  way-faring  stranger  breathless  toils, 
And,  often  falling,  climbs  against  the  blast. 
Low  waves  the  rooted  forest,  vex'd,  and  sheds 
What  of  its  tarnish'd  honours  yet  remain  ; 
Dash'd  down,  and  scatterM,  by  the  tearing  wind's 
Assiduous  fury,  its  gigantic  limbs. 
Tims  struggling  through  the  dissipated  grove 
The  whirling  tempest  raves  along  the  plain  ; 
And  on  the  cottage  thatch 'd,  or  lordly  roof, 
Keen-fastening,  shakes  them  to  the  solid  base. 
Sleep  frighted  flies  ;  and  round  the  rocking  dome, 
For  entrance  eager,  howls  the  savage  blast. 
Then,  too,  they  say,  through  all  the  burden'd  air 
Long  groans  are  heard,  shrill  sounds,  and  distant  sighs, 
That,  utter'd  by  the  Demon  of  the  night, 
Warn  the  devoted  wretch  of  woe  and  death. 

Huge  uproar  lords  it  wide.     The  clouds  commix'd 
With  stars  swift  gliding  sweep  along  the  sky. 


180  THE   SEASONS. 

All  Nature  reels.     Till  Nature's  King,  who  oft 

Amid  tempestuous  darkness  dwells  alone, 

And  on  the  wings  of  the  careering  wind 

Walks  dreadfully  serene,  commands  a  calm  ; 

Then  straight,  air,  sea,  and  earth,  are  hush'd  at  once. 

As  yet  'tis  midnight  deep.     The  weary  clouds, 
Slow-meeting,  mingle  into  solid  gloom. 
Now,  while  the  drowsy  world  lies  lost  in  sleep, 
Let  me  associate  with  the  serious  Night, 
And  Contemplation  her  sedate  compeer  ; 
Let  me  shake  off  th'  intrusive  cares  of  day, 
And  lay  the  meddling  senses  all  aside. 

Where  now,  ye  lying  vanities  of  life  ! 
Ye  ever-tempting,  ever-cheating  train  ! 
Where  are  you  now  ?  and  what  is  your  amount  ? 
Vexation,  disappointment,  and  remorse  : 
Sad,  sickening  thought !  and  yet  deluded  man, 
A  scene  of  crude  disjointed  visions  past, 
And  broken  slumbers,  rises  still  resolv'd, 
With  new-flush 'd  hopes,  to  run  the  giddy  round. 

Father  of  light  and  life  !  thou  Good  Supreme  ! 
O  teach  me  what  is  good  !  teach  me  Thyself  ! 
Save  me  from  folly,  vanity,  and  vice, 
From  every  low  pursuit !  and  feed  my  soul 
With  knowledge,  conscious  peace,  and  virtue  pure  ; 
Sacred,  substantial,  never-fading  bliss  ! 

The  keener  tempests  rise  :  and  fuming  dun 
From  all  the  livid  east,  or  piercing  north, 
Thick  clouds  ascend  ;  in  whose  capacious  womb 


WIKTER.  181 

A  vapoury  deluge  lies,  to  snow  congeal'd. 

Heavy  they  roll  their  fleecy  world  along  ; 

And  the  sky  saddens  with  the  gathered  storm. 

Through  the  hush'd  air  the  whitening  shower  descends, 

At  first  thin  wavering  ;  till  at  last  the  flakes 

Fall  broad,  and  wide,  and  fast,  dimming  the  day, 

With  a  continual  flow.     The  cherish'd  flelda 

Put  on  their  winter-robe  of  purest  white. 

Tis  brightness  all ;  save  where  the  new  snow  melts 

Along  the  mazy  current.     Low  the  woods 

Bow  their  hoar  head  ;  and  ere  the  languid  sun 

Faint  from  the  west  emits  his  evening  ray, 

Earth's  universal  face,  deep  hid,  and  chill, 

Is  one  wild  dazzling  waste,  that  buries  wide 

The  works  of  man.     Drooping,  the  labourer-ox 

Stands  covered  o'er  with  snow,  and  then  demands 

The  fruit  of  all  his  toil     The  fowls  of  heaven, 

Tam'd  by  the  cruel  season,  crowd  around 

The  winnowing  store,  and  claim  the  little  boon 

Which  Providence  assigns  them.     One  alone, 

The  red-breast,  sacred  to  the  household  gods, 

Wisely  regardful  of  th'  embroiling  sky, 

In  joyless  fields  and  thorny  thickets,  leaves 

His  shivering  mates,  and  pays  to  trusted  man 

His  annual  visit.     Half-afraid,  he  first 

Against  the  window  beats  ;  then,  brisk,  alights 

On  the  warm  hearth  ;  then,  hopping  o'er  the  floor. 

Eyes  all  the  smiling  family  askance, 

And  pecks,  and  starts,  and  wonders  where  he  is  ; 


182  THE   SEASONS. 

Till  more  familiar  grown,  the  table  crumbs 
Attract  his  slender  feet.     The  foodless  wilds 
•Pour  forth  their  brown  inhabitants.     The  hare, 
Though  timorous  of  heart,  and  hard  beset 
By  death  in  various  forms,  dark  snares  and  dogs, 
And  more  unpitying  men,  the  garden  seeks, 
Urg'd  on  by  fearless  want.     The  bleating  kind 
Eye  the  bleak  heaven,  and  next  the  glistening  earth, 
With  looks  of  dumb  despair  ;  then,  sad-dispers'd, 
Dig  for  the  withered  herb  through  heaps  of  snow. 

Now,  shepherds,  to  your  helpless  charge  be  kind, 
Baffle  the  raging  year,  and  fill  their  pens 
With  food  at  will ;  lodge  them  below  the  storm, 
And  watch  them  strict :  for  from  the  bellowing  east, 
In  this  dire  season,  oft  the  whirwind's  wing 
Sweeps  up  the  burden  of  whole  wintry  plains 
At  one  wide  waft,  and  o'er  the  hapless  flocks, 
Hid  in  the  hollow  of  two  neighbouring  hills, 
The  billowy  tempest  whelms ;  till,  upward  urg'd, 
The  valley  to  a  shining  mountain  swells, 
Tipt  with  a  wreath  high-curling  in  the  sky. 

As  thus  the  snows  arise  ;  and  foul,  and  fierce, 
All  Winter  drives  along  the  darken'd  air  ; 
In  his  own  loose-revolving  fields,  the  swain 
Disaster^  stands  ;  sees  other  hills  ascend, 
Of  unknown  joyless  brow  ;  and  other  scenes, 
Of  horrid  prospect,  shag  the  trackless  plain  : 
Nor  finds  the  river,  nor  the  forest,  hid 
Beneath  the  formless  wild  ;  but  wanders  on 


WINTER.  183 

From  hill  to  dale,  still  more  and  more  astray  ; 
Impatient  flouncing  through  the  drifted  heaps, 
Stung  with  the  thoughts  of  home;   the  thoughts  of 

home 

Hush  on  his  nerves,  and  call  their  vigour  forth 
In  many  a  vain  attempt.     How  sinks  his  soul ! 
What  black  despair,  what  horror  fills  his  heart ! 
When  for  the  dusky  spot,  which  fancy  feign'd 
His  tufted  cottage  rising  through  the  snow, 
He  meets  the  roughness  of  the  middle  waste, 
Far  from  the  track,  and  bless'd  abode  of  man  ! 
While  round  him  night  resistless  closes  fast, 
And  every  tempest,  howling  o'er  his  head, 
Renders  the  savage  wilderness  more  wild. 
Then  throng  the  busy  shapes  into  his  mind 
Of  covered  pits,  unfathomably  deep, 
A  dire  descent !  beyond  the  power  of  frost ; 
Of  faithless  bogs  ;  of  precipices  huge, 
Smooth'd  up  with  snow  ;  and,  what  is  land  unknown, 
What  water,  of  the  still  unfrozen  spring, 
In  the  loose  marsh  or  solitary  lake, 
Where  the  fresh  fountain  from  the  bottom  boils. 
These  check  his  fearful  steps  ;  and  down  he  sinks  J 
Beneath  the  shelter  of  a  shapeless  drift, 
Thinking  o'er  all  the  bitterness  of  death, 
Mix'd  with  the  tender  anguish  Nature  shoots 
Through  the  wrung  bosom  of  the  dying  man, 
His  wife,  his  children,  and  his  friends  unseen. 
In  vain  for  him  th'  oflici<>us  wife  prepares 


184  THE    SEASONS. 

The  fire  fair-blazing,  and  the  vestment  warm  ; 
In  vain  his  little  children,  peeping  out 
Into  the  mingling  storm,  demand  their  sire, 
With  tears  of  artless  innocence.     Alas  ! 
Nor  wife,  nor  children,  more  shall  he  behold, 
Nor  friends,  nor  sacred  home.     On  every  nerve 
The  deadly  Winter  seizes  ;  shuts  up  sense  ; 
And,  o'er  his  inmost  vitals  creeping  cold, 
Lays  him  along  the  snows,  a  stiffen'd  corse, 
Stretch'd  out,  and  bleaching  in  the  northern  blast. 

Ah  !  little  think  the  gay  licentious  proud, 
Whom  pleasure,  power,  and  affluence  surround  ; 
They  who  their  thoughtless  hours  in  giddy  mirth, 
And  wanton,  often  cruel,  riot  waste  ; 
Ah  !  little  think  they,  while  they  dance  along, 
How  many  feel,  this  very  moment,  death, 
And  all  the  sad  variety  of  pain. 
How  many  sink  in  the  devouring  flood, 
Or  more  devouring  flame.     How  many  bleed, 
By  shameful  variance  betwixt  man  and  man. 
How  many  pine  in  want,  and  dungeon  glooms  ; 
Shut  from  the  common  air,  and  common  use 
Of  their  own  limbs.     How  many  drink  the  cup 
Of  baleful  grief,  or  eat  the  bitter  bread 
Of  misery.     Sore  pierc'd  by  wintry  winds, 
How  many  shrink  into  the  sordid  hut 
Of  cheerless  poverty.     How  many  shake 
With  all  the  fiercer  tortures  of  the  mind, 
Unbounded  passion,  madness,  guilt,  remorse  ; 


WINTER.  185 

Whence  tumbled  headlong  from  the  height  of  life, 

They  furnish  matter  for  the  tragic  Muse. 

Ev'n  in  the  vale,  where  Wisdom  loves  to  dwell, 

With  friendship,  peace,  and  contemplation  join'd, 

How  many,  rack'd  with  honest  passions,  droop 

In  deep  retir'd  distress.     How  many  stand  roi(5 

Around  the  death-bed  of  their  dearest  friends, 

And  point  the  parting  anguish.    Thought  fond  Han 

Of  these,  and  all  the  thousand  nameless  ills, 

That  one  incessant  struggle  render  life, 

One  scene  of  toil,  of  suffering,  and  of  fate, 

Vice  in  his  high  career  would  stand  appall'd, 

And  heedless  rambling  Impulse  learn  to  think  : 

The  conscious  heart  of  Charity  would  warm, 

And  her  wide  wish  Benevolence  dilate  ; 

The  social  tear  would  rise,  the  social  sigh  ; 

And  into  clear  perfection,  gradual  bliss, 

Refining  still,  the  social  passions  work. 

And  here  can  I  forget  the  generous  band,* 
Who,  touch'd  with  human  woe,  redressive  search'd 
Into  the  horrors  of  the  gloomy  jail  ? 
Unpitied,  and  unheard,  where  misery  moans  ; 
Where  sickness  pines  ;  where  thirst  and  hunger  burn 
And  poor  misfortune  feels  the  lash  of  vice. 
While  in  the  land  of  Liberty,  the  land 
Whose  every  street  and  public  meeting  glow 
With  open  freedom,  little  tyrants  rag'd  ; 
Snatch'd  the  lean  morsel  from  the  starving  mouth  ; 
*  The  Jail  Committee,  in  the  year  1729. 


18G  THE  SEASONS. 

Tore  from  cold  wintry  limbs  the  tatter'd  weed  ; 
Ev'n  robb'd  them  of  the  last  of  comforts,  sleep  ; 
The  free-born  Briton  to  the  dungeon  chaiii'd, 
Or,  as  the  lust  of  cruelty  prevail'd, 
At  pleasure  mark'd  him  with  inglorious  stripes  ; 
And  crush'd  out  lives,  by  secret  barbarous  ways, 
That  for  their  country  would  have  toil'd,  or  bled. 
O  great  design  !  if  executed  well, 
With  patient  care,  and  wisdom-temper'd  zeal. 
Ye  sons  of  Mercy  !  yet  resume  the  search  ; 
Drag  forth  the  legal  monsters  into  light, 
Wrench  from  their  hands  oppression's  iron  rod, 
And  bid  the  cruel  feel  the  pains  they  give. 
Much  still  untouch'd  remains  ;  in  this  rank  age, 
Much  is  the  patriot's  weeding  hand  requir'd. 
The  toils  of  law,  (what  dark  insidious  men 
Have  cumbrous  added  to  perplex  the  truth, 
And  lengthen  simple  justice  into  trade) 
I  How  glorious  were  the  day  !  that  saw  these  broke, 
'And  every  man  within  the  reach  of  right. 

By  wintry  famine  rous'd,  from  all  the  tract 
Of  horrid  mountains  which  the  shining  Alps, 
And  wavy  Apennine,  and  Pyrenees, 
Branch  out  stupendous  into  distant  lands  ; 
Cruel  as  death,  and  hungry  as  the  grave  ! 
Burning  for  blood  !  bony,  and  gaunt,  and  grim  ! 
Assembling  wolves  in  raging  troops  descend  ; 
And,  pouring  o'er  the  country,  bear  along, 
Keen  as  the  north-wind  sweeps  the  glossy  snow. 


WINTER.  187 

All  is  their  prize.     They  fasten  on  the  steed, 

Press  him  to  earth,  and  pierce  his  mighty  heart. 

Nor  can  the  bull  his  awful  front  defend, 

Or  shake  the  murdering  savages  away. 

Rapacious,  at  the  mother's  throat  they  fly, 

And  tear  the  screaming  infant  from  her  breast. 

The  godlike  face  of  man  avails  him  nought. 

Ev'n  beauty,  force  divine  !  at  whose  bright  glance 

The  jjriHTiius  linn  stands  in  soften'd  gaze, 

Hi  iv  lilrt-ds,  a  hapless  undi.stinguish'd  prey. 

But  if,  apprizM  of  the  severe  attack, 

The  country  be  shut  up,  lurM  by  the  scent, 

On  church-yards  drear  (inhuman  to  relate  !) 

The  disappointed  prowlers  fall,  and  dig 

The  shrouded  body  from  the  grave  ;  o'er  which,. 

Mix'd  with  foul  shades,  and  frighted  ghosts,  they  howl. 

Among  those  hilly  regions,  where  embrac'd 
In  peaceful  vales  the  happy  Grisons  dwell ; 
Oft,  rushing  sudden  from  the  loaded  cliffs, 
Mountains  of  snow  their  gathering  terrors  roll. 
From  steep  to  steep,  loud-thundering  down  they  come, 
A  wintry  waste  in  dire  commotion  all ; 
And  herds,  and  flocks,  and  travellers,  and  swains, 
And  sometimes  whole  brigades  of  marching  troops, 
Or  hamlets  sleeping  in  the  dead  of  night, 
Are  deep  beneath  the  smothering  ruin  whelmM. 

Now,  all  amid  the  rigours  of  the  year, 
In  the  wild  depth  of  Winter,  while  without 
The  ceaseless  winds  blow  ice,  be  my  retreat, 


188  THE   SEASONS. 

I  Between  the  groaning  forest  and  the  shore 
Beat  by  the  boundless  multitude  of  waves, 
A  rural,  sheltered,  solitary  scene  ; 
Where  ruddy  fire  and  beaming  tapers  join, 
To  cheer  the  gloom.     There  studious  let  me  sit, 
And  hold  high  converse  with  the  mighty  Dead  ; 
Sages  of  ancient  time,  as  gods  rever'd, 
As  gods  beneficent,  who  bless'd  mankind 
With  arts,  with  arms,  and  humaniz'd  a  world. 
Eous'd  at  th'  inspiring  thought,  I  throw  aside 
The  long-liv'd  volume  ;  and,  deep-musing,  hail 
The  sacred  shades,  that  slowly-rising  pass 
Before  my  wondering  eyes.    JTirst  Socrates, 
Who,  firmly  good  in  a  corrupted  state, 
Against  the  rage  of  tyrants  single  stood, 
Invincible  !  calm  Reason's  holy  law, 
That  Voice  of  GOD  within  th'  attentive  mind, 
Obeying,  fearless,  or  in  life,  or  death  : 
Great  moral  teacher  !  Wisest  of  mankind  ! 
Solon  the  next,  who  built  his  commonweal 
On  equity's  wide  base  ;  by  tender  laws 
A  lively  people  curbing,  yet  undamp'd 
Preserving  still  that  quick  peculiar  fire, 
Whence  in  the  laurel'd  field  of  finer  arts, 
And  of  bold  freedom,  they  unequall'd  shone, 
The  pride  of  smiling  Greece,  and  humankind. 
Lycurgus  then,  who  bow'd  beneath  the  force 
Of  strictest  discipline,  severely  wise, 
All  human  passions.     Following  him,  I  see, 


WINTER.  189 

As  at  Thermopylae  he  glorious  fell, 
The  firm  devoted  Chief,*  who  proVd  by  deeds 
The  hardest  lesson  which  the  other  taught. 
Then  Aristides  lifts  his  honest  front ; 
Spotless  of  heart,  to  whom  th'  unflattering  voice 
Of  freedom  gave  the  noblest  name  of  Just ; 
In  pure  majestic  poverty  rever'd  ; 
Who,  ev'n  his  glory  to  his  country's  weal 
Submitting,  swell'd  a  haughty  Rival's  t  fame. 
RearM  by  his  care,  of  softer  ray  appears 
Cimon  sweet-souled  ;  whose  genius,  rising  strong, 
Shook  off  the  load  of  young  debauch  ;  abroad 
The  scourge  of  Persian  pride,  at  home  the  friend 
Of  every  worth  and  every  splendid  art ; 
Modest,  and  simple,  in  the  pomp  of  wealth. 
Then  the  last  worthies  of  declining  Greece, 
Late  call'd  to  glory,  in  unequal  times, 
Pensive  appear.     The  fair  Corinthian  boast, 
Timoleon,  happy  temper  !  mild,  and  firm, 
Who  wept  the  brother  while  the  tyrant  bled. 
And,  equal  to  the  best,  the  Theban  Pair,! 
Whose  virtues,  in  heroic  concord  joined, 
Their  country  rais'd  to  freedom,  empire,  fame. 
He,  too,  with  whom  Athenian  honour  sunk, 
And  left  a  mass  of  sordid  lees  behind, 
Phocion  the  Good  ;  in  public  life  severe, 
To  virtue  still  inexorably  firm  ; 
But,  when  beneath  his  low  illustrious  roof, 
*  Leouidas.    t  Themistocles.    £  Pelopidaa  and  Epatuinondus. 


190  THE   SEASONS. 

Sweet  peace  and  happy  wisdom  smooth'd  his  brow, 

Not  friendship  softer  was,  nor  love  more  kind. 

And  he,  the  last  of  old  Lycurgus'  sons, 

The  generous  victim  to  that  vain  attempt, 

To  save  a  rotten  state,  Agis,  who  saw 

Ev'n  Sparta's  self  to  servile  avarice  sunk. 

The  two  Achaian  heroes  close  the  train  : 

Aratus,  who  awhile  relum'd  the  soul 

Of  fondly-lingering  liberty  in  Greece  ; 

And  he  her  darling  as  her  latest  hope, 

The  gallant  Philopcemen  ;  who  to  arms 

Turn'd  the  luxurious  pomp  he  could  not  cure  ; 

Or  toiling  in  his  farm,  a  simple  swain  ; 

Or,  bold  and  skilful,  thundering  in  the  field. 

Of  rougher  front,  a  mighty  people  come  ! 
A  race  of  heroes  !  in  those  virtuous  times 
Which  knew  no  stain,  save  that  with  partial  flame 
Their  dearest  country  they  too  fondly  lov'd  : 
Her  better  Founder  first,  the  light  of  Rome, 
Numa,  who  softened  her  rapacious  sons  : 
Servius  the  king,  who  laid  the  solid  base 
On  which  o'er  earth  the  vast  republic  spread. 
Then  the  great  consul's  venerable  rise. 
The  public  Father*  who  the  private  quell'd 
As  on  the  dread  tribunal  sternly  sad. 
He,  whom  his  thankless  country  could  not  lose, 
Camillus,  only  vengeful  to  her  foes. 
Fabricius,  scorner  of  all-conquering  gold  ; 
*  Marcus  Junius  Brutus. 


WINTER.  191 

And  C'incinnatus,  awful  from  the  plough. 
Thy  willing  victim,*  Carthage,  bursting  loose 
From  all  that  pleading  Nature  could  oppose, 
From  a  whole  city's  tears,  by  rigid  faith 
Imperious  call'd,  and  honour's  dire  command. 
Scipio,  the  gentle  chief,  humanely  brave, 
Who  soon  the  race  of  spotless  glory  ran, 
And,  warm  in  youth,  to  the  poetic  shade 
With  Friendship  and  Philosophy  retir'd, 
Tully,  whose  powerful  eloquence  awhile 
Restrain'd  the  rapid  fate  of  rushing  Borne. 
Unconquer'd  Cato,  virtuous  in  extreme  : 
And  thou,  unhappy  Brutus,  kind  of  heart, 
Whose  steady  arm,  by  awful  virtue  urg'd, 
Lifted  the  Boman  steel  against  thy  friend. 
Thousands  besides  the  tribute  of  a  verse 
Demand  ;  but  who  can  count  the  stars  of  heaven 
Who  sing  their  influence  on  this  lower  world  ? 

Behold,  who  yonder  comes  !  in  sober  state, 
Fair,  mild,  and  strong,  as  is  a  vernal  sun  : 
Tis  Phoebus'  self,  or  else  the  Mantuan  Swain  ! 
Great  Homer  too  appears,  of  daring  wing, 
Parent  of  song  !  and  equal  by  his  side, 
The  British  Muse  :  join'd  hand  in  hand  they  walk 
Darkling,  full  up  the  middle  steep  to  fame, 
Nor  absent  are  those  shades,  whose  skilful  touch 
Pathetic  drew  th'  impassion'd  heart,  and  charm'd 
Transported  Athens  with  the  moral  scene  ; 
*  Kcgulus. 


192  THE   SEASONS. 

Nor  those  who,  tuneful,  wak'd  th'  enchanting  lyre. 

First  of  your  kind  !  society  divine  ! 
Still  visit  thus  my  nights,  for  you  reservM, 
And  mount  my  soaring  soul  to  thoughts  like  yours. 
Silence,  thou  lonely  power  !  the  door  be  thine  ; 
See  on  the  hallow'd  hour  that  none  intrude, 
Save  a  few  chosen  friends,  who  sometimes  deign 
To  bless  my  humble  roof,  with  sense  refin'd, 
Learning  digested  well,  exalted  faith, 
Unstudied  wit,  and  humour  ever  gay. 
Or  from  the  Muses'  hill  will  Pope  descend, 
To  raise  the  sacred  hour,  to  bid  it  smile, 
And  with  the  social  spirit  warm  the  heart  ? 
For  though  not  sweeter  his  own  Homer  sings, 
Yet  is  his  life  the  more  endearing  song. 

Where  art  thou,  Hammond  ?  thou,  the  darling  pride, 
The  friend  and  lover  of  the  tuneful  throng  ! 
Ah  why,  dear  youth,  in  all  the  blooming  prime 
Of  vernal  genius,  where  disclosing  fast 
Each  active  worth,  each  manly  virtue  lay, 
Why  wert  thou  ravish'd  from  our  hope  so  soon  ? 
What  now  avails  that  noble  thirst  of  fame, 
Which  stung  thy  fervent  breast  ?  that  treasur'd  store 
Of  knowledge,  early  gaiii'd  ?  that  eager  zeal 
To  serve  thy  country,  glowing  in  the  band 
Of  youthful  patriots,  who  sustain  her  name  ; 
What  now,  alas  !  that  life-diffusing  charm 
Of  sprightly  wit  ?  that  rapture  for  the  Muse, 
That  heart  of  friendship,  and  that  soul  of  joy, 


„  WINTKR.  193 

Which  )  >;v>  U'  with  softest  light  thy  virtues  smile  ? 
Ah  !  only  show'd,  to  check  our  fond  pursuits, 
A  IK  1  teach  our  humbled  hopes  that  life  is  vain  ! 

Thus  in  some  deej>_retimneut  would  I  jwvtvs 
The  winter  glooms,  with  friends  of  pliant  soul, 
Or  blithe,  or  solemn,  as  the  theme  iuspir'd  : 
With  till-in  would  search,  if  Nature's  boundless  frame 
Was  call'd,  late-riding  from  the  void  of  night, 
Or  sprung  eternal  from  t  h:  £ternal  Mind  ; 
Its  life,  its  laws,  its  progress,  and  its  end. 
Hence  larger  prospects  of  the  beauteous  whole 
Would,  gradual,  open  on  our  openiug  niiuds  ; 
And  each  diffusive  harmony  unite 
In  full  perfection,  to  t  IT  astouish'd  eye. 
Then  would  we  try  to  scan  the  moral  world, 
Which^  though  to  use  it  seems  embroil'd,  moves  on 
liTTugher  order  ;  fitted  and  irnpell'd 
By  Wisdom's  finest  hand,  and  issuing  all 
III  general  good.     The  sage  historic  Muse 
Should  next  conduct  us  through  the  deejw  of  time  ; 
Show  us  how  empire  grew,  declin'd,  and  fell, 
In  scatter'd  states  ;  what  makes  the  nations  smile, 
Improves  their  soil,  and  gives  them  double  suns  ; 
And  why  they  pine  beneath  the  brightest  skies, 
tn  Nature's  richest  lap.     As  thus  we  talk'd, 
Our  hearts  would  burn  within  us,  would  inhale 
That  portion  of  divinity,  that  ray 
Of  purest  heaven,  which  lights  the  public  soul 
Of  patriots  and  of  heroes.     But  if  doom'd 


194  THE   SEASONS. 

In  powerless  humble  fortune,  to  repress 

These  ardent  risings  of  the  kindling  soul ; 

Then,  even  superior  to  ambition,  we 

Would  learn  the  private  virtues  ;  how  to  glide 

Through    shades    and    plains,   along    the    smoothest 

stream 

Of  rural  life  :  or  suatch'd  away  by  hope, 
Through  the  dim  spaces  of  futurity, 
With  earnest  eye  anticipate  those  scenes 
Of  happiness  and  wonder  :  where  the  mind, 
In  endless  growth  and  infinite  ascent, 
Rises  from  state  to  state,  and  world  to  world. 
But  when  with  these  the  serious  thought  is  foil'd, 
We,  shifting  for  relief,  would  play  the  shapes 
Of  frolic  fancy  ;  and  incessant  form 
Those  rapid  pictures,  that  assembled  train 
Of  fleet  ideas,  never  join'd  before, 
Whence  lively  Wit  excites  to  gay  susprise  ; 
Or  folly-painting  Humour,  grave  himself, 
^  Calls  Laughter  forth,  deep-shaking  every  nerve. 

Meantime  the  village  rouses  up  the  fire  ; 
While  well  attested,  and  as  well  believ'd, 
Heard  solemn,  goes  the  goblin  story  round  ; 
Till  superstitious  horror  creeps  o'er  all. 
Or,  frequent  in  the  sounding  hall,  they  wake 
The  rural  gambol.    Rustic  mirth  goes  round  ; 
The  simple  joke  that  takes  the  shepherd's  heart, 
Easily  pleas'd  ;  the  long  loud  laugh  sincere  ; 
The  kiss,  snatr-h'd  hasty  from  the  side-long  maid, 


WINTER.  196 

Oil  purpose  guardless,  or  pretending  sleep  : 
The  leap,  the  slap,  the  haul ;  and  shook  to  notes 
Of  native  music,  the  respondent  dance. 
Thus  jocund  fleets  with  them  the  winter  night. 

The  city  swarms  intense.     The  public  haunt, 
Full  of  each  theme  and  warm  with  mix'd  discourse, 
Hums  indistinct.     The  sons  of  riot  flow 
Down  the  loose  stream  of  false  enchanted  joy, 
To  swift  destruction.     On  the  rankled  soul 
The  gaming  fury  falls  ;  and  in  one  gulf 
Of  total  ruin,  honour,  virtue,  peace, 
Friends,  families,  and  fortune,  headlong  sink. 
Up-springs  the  dance  along  the  lighted  dome, 
Mix'd,  and  evolv'd,  a  thousand  sprightly  ways. 
The  glittering  court  effuses  every  pomp  ; 
The  circle  deepens  ;  beam'd  from  gaudy  robes, 
Tapers,  and  sparkling  gems,  and  radiant  eyes, 
A  soft  effulgence  o'er  the  palace  waves  : 
While,  a  gay  insect  in  his  summer  shine, 
The  fop,  light-fluttering,  spreads  his  mealy  wings. 

Dread  o'er  the  scene,  the  ghost  of  Hamlet  stalks  ; 
Othello  rages  ;  poor  Monimia  mourns  ; 
And  Belvidera  pours  her  soul  in  love. 
Terror  alarms  the  breast ;  the  comely  tear 
Steals  o'er  the  cheek  ;  or  else  the  Comic  Muse 
Holds  to  the  world  a  picture  of  itself, 
And  raises  sly  the  fair  impartial  laugh. 
Sometimes  she  lifts  her  strain,  and  paints  the  scenes 
Of  beauteous  life  ;  whate'er  can  deck  mankind, 


196  THE  SEASONS. 

Or  charm  the  heart,  in  generous  Bevil*  show'd. 

O  thou,  whose  wisdom,  solid  yet  refin'd, 
Whose  patriot  virtues,  and  consummate  skill 
To  touch  the  finer  springs  that  move  the  world, 
Join'd  to  whate'er  the  Graces  can  bestow, 
And  all  Apollo's  animating  fire, 
Give  thee,  with  pleasing  dignity,  to  shine 
At  once  the  guardian,  ornament,  and  joy 
Of  polish'd  life  ;  permit  the  rural  Muse, 
O  Chesterfield,  to  grace  with  thee  her  song  ! 
Ere  to  the  shades  again  she  humbly  flies, 
Indulge  her  fond  ambition,  in  thy  train, 
(For  every  Muse  has  in  thy  train  a  place) 
To  mark  thy  various  full-accomplish'd  mind  : 
To  mark  that  spirit,  which,  with  British  scorn, 
Eejects  th'  allurements  of  corrupted  power  ; 
That  elegant  politeness,  which  excels, 
Ev'n  in  the  judgment  of  presumptuous  France, 
The  boasted  manners  of  her  shining  court ; 
That  wit,  the  vivid  energy  of  sense, 
The  truth  of  Nature,  which  with  Attic  point 
And  kind  well-temper'd  satire,  smoothly  keen, 
Steals  through  the  soul,  and  without  pain  corrects. 
Or  rising  thence  with  yet  a  brighter  flame 
O  let  me  hail  thee  on  some  glorious  day, 
When  to  the  listening  senate,  ardent,  crowd 
Britannia's  sons  to  hear  her  pleaded  cause. 
Then  dress'd  by  thee,  more  amiably  fair, 
*  A  character  in  The  Conscious  Lovers,  written  by  Sir  U.  Stock, 


WINTER.  197 

Truth  the  soft  robe  of  mild  persuasion  wears  : 

Thou  to  assenting  reason  giv'st  again 

Her  own  enlighten'd  thoughts ;  call'd  from  t.Jie  heart, 

Th'  obedient  passions  on  thy  voice  attend  ; 

And  ev'n  reluctant  party  feels  awhile 

Thy  gracious  power  :  as  through  the  varied  maze 

Of  eloquence,  now  smooth,  now  quick,  now  strong, 

Profound  and  clear,  you  roll  the  copious  flood. 

To  thy  lov'd  haunt,  return,  my  happy  Muse  : 
For  now,  behold,  the  joyous  winter  days, 
Frosty,  succeed  ;  and  through  the  blue  serene, 
For  sight  too  fine,  th'  ethereal  nitre  flies  ; 
Killing  infectious  damps,  and  the  spent  air 
Storing  afresh  with  elemental  life. 
Close  crowds  the  shining  atmosphere  ;  and  binds 
Our  streugthen'd  bodies  in  its  cold  embrace, 
Constringent ;  feeds,  and  animates  our  blood  ; 
Refines  our  spirits,  through  the  new-strung  nerves, 
In  swifter  sallies  darting  to  the  brain  ; 
Where  sits  the  soul,  intense,  collected,  cool, 
Bright  as  the  skies,  and  as  the  season  keen 
All  Nature  feels  the  renovating  force 
Of  Winter,  only  to  the  thoughtless  eye 
In  ruin  seen.     The  frost-concocted  glebe 
Draws  in  abundant  vegetable  soul, 
And  gathers  vigour  for  the  coming  year. 
A  stronger  glow  sits  on  the  lively  cheek 
Of  ruddy  fire  :  and  luculent  along 
The  purer  rivers  flow  ;  their  sullen  deep 


198  THE  SEASONS. 

Transparent,  open  to  the  shepherd's  gaze, 
And  murmur  hoarser  at  the  fixing  frost. 

What  art  thou,  frost?  and  whence  art  thy  keen  stores 
Deriv'd,  thou  secret  all-invading  power, 
Whom  even  th'  illusive  fluid  cannot  fly  ? 
Is  not  thy  potent  energy,  unseen, 
Myriads  of  little  salts,  or  hook'd,  or  shap'd 
Like  double  wedges,  and  diffus'd  immense 
Through  water,  earth,  and  ether  ?  hence  at  eve, 
Steam'd  eager  from  the  red  horizon  round, 
With  the  fierce  rage  of  Winter  deep  suffus'd, 
An  icy  gale,  oft  shifting,  o'er  the  pool 
Breathes  a  blue  film,  and  in  its  mid  career 
Arrests  the  bickering  stream.     The  loosen'd  ice, 
Let  down  the  flood,  and  half  dissolv'd  by  day, 
Rustles  no  more  ;  but  to  the  sedgy  bank 
Fast  grows,  or  gathers  round  the  pointed  stone, 
A  crystal  pavement,  by  the  breath  of  heaven 
Cemented  firm  ;  till,  seiz'd  from  shore  to  shore, 
The  whole  imprison'd  river  growls  below. 
Loud  rings  the  frozen  earth,  and  hard  reflects 
A  double  noise  ;  while,  at  his  evening  watch, 
The  village  dog  deters  the  nightly  thief ; 
The  heifer  lows  ;  the  distant  waterfall 
Swells  in  the  breeze  ;  and,  with  the  hasty  tread 
Of  traveller,  the  hollow-sounding  plain 
Shakes  from  afar.     The  full  ethereal  round, 
Infinite  worlds  disclosing  to  the  view, 
Shines  out  intensely  keen  ;  and,  all  one  cope 


WINTKR.  199 

Of  starry  glitter,  glows  from  pole  to  pole. 
From  pole  to  pole  the  rigid  influence  falls, 
Through  the  still  night,  incessant,  heavy,  strong, 
And  seizes  Nature  fast.     It  freezes  on  ; 
Till  Morn,  late-rising  o'er  the  drooping  world, 
Lifts  her  pale  eye  unjoyous.     Then  appears 
The  various  labour  of  the  silenfnight : 
Prone  from  the  dripping  eave,  and  dumb  cascade 
Whose  idle  torrents  only  seem  to  roar, 
The  pendent  icicle  ;  the  frost-work  fair, 
Where  transient  hues,  and  fancied  figures  rise  ; 
Wide-spouted  o'er  the  hill,  the  frozen  brook, 
A  livid  tract,  cold-gleaming  on  the  morn  ; 
The  forest  bent  beneath  the  plumy  wave  ; 
And  by  the  frost  refin'd,  the  whiter  snow, 
Incrusted  hard,  and  sounding  to  the  tread 
Of  early  shepherd,  as  he  pensive  seeks 
His  pining  flock,  or  from  the  mountain  top, 
Fleas'd  with  the  slippery  surface,  swift  descends. 
On  blithsome  frolics  bent,  the  youthful  swains, 
While  every  work  of  man  is  laid  at  rest, 
Fond  o'er  the  river  crowd,  in  various  sport 
And  revelry  dissolv'd  ;  where  mixing  glad, 
Happiest  of  all  the  train  !  the  raptur'd  boy 
Lashes  the  whirling  top.     Or,  where  the  Rhine 
Branch'd  out  in  many  a  long  canal  extends, 
From  every  province  swarming,  void  of  care,  , 

Batavia  rushes  forth  ;  and  as  they  sweep, 
On  sounding  skates,  a  thousand  different  way*, 


200  THE   SEASONS. 

In  circling  poise,  swift  as  the  winds,  along, 
The  then  gay  land  is  madden'd  all  to  joy. 
Nor  less  the  northern  courts,  wide  o'er  the  snow. 
Pour  a  new  pomp.     Eager,  on  rapid  sleds, 
Their  vigorous  youth  in  bold  contention  wheel 
The  long-resounding  course.     Meantime  to  raise 
The  manly  strife,  with  highly  blooming  charms, 
Flush'd  by  the  season,  Scandinavia's  dames, 
Or  Russia's  buxom  daughters,  glow  around. 

Pure,  quick,  and  sportful,  is  the  wholesome  day 
But  soon  elaps'd.     The  horizontal  sun, 
Broad  o'er  the  south,  hangs  at  his  utmost  noon  : 
And,  ineffectual,  strikes  the  gelid  cliff : 
His  azure  gloss  the  mountain  still  maintains, 
Nor  feels  the  feeble  touch.     Perhaps  the  vale 
Relents  awhile  to  the  reflected  ray  : 
Or  from  the  forest  falls  the  cluster'd  snow, 
Myriads  of  gems,  that  in  the  waving  gleam 
Gay  twinkle  as  they  scatter.     Thick  around 
Thunders  the  sport  of  those,  who,  with  the  gun, 
And  dog  impatient  bounding  at  the  shot, 
Worse  than  the  Season,  desolate  the  fields  ; 
And,  adding  to  the  ruins  of  the  year, 
Distress  the  footed  or  the  feather'd  game. 

But  what  is  this  ?  our  infant  Winter  sinks, 
Divested  of  his  grandeur,  should  our  eye 
Astonish'd  shoot  into  the  frigid  zone  ; 
Where,  for  relentless  months,  continual  Night 
Holds  o'er  the  glittering  waste  her  starry  reign. 


WINTKU.  201 

There,  through  the  prison  of  unbounded  wilds, 
BaiVd  by  the  hand  of  Nature  from  esca]H-, 
Wide  roams  the  Russian  exile.     Nought  around 
Strikes  his  sad  eye,  but  deserts  lost  in  snow  ; 
And  heavy-loaded  groves  ;  and  solid  floods, 
That  stretch,  athwart  the  solitary  vast, 
Their  icy  horrors  to  the  frozen  main  ; 
And  cheerless  towns  far-distant,  never  bless d, 
Save  when  its  annual  course  the  caravan 
Bends  to  the  golden  coast  of  rich  Cathay,* 
With  news  of  humankind.     Yet  there  life  glows  ; 
Yet  cherish'd  there,  beneath  the  shining  waste, 
The  furry  nations  harbour  :  tipp'd  with  jet, 
Fair  ermines,  spotless  as  the  snows  they  press  ; 
Sables,  of  glossy  black  ;  and  dark-embrown'd,   \ 
Or  beauteous  freak'd  with  many  a  mingled  hu«, 
Thousands  besides,  the  costly  pride  of  courts. 
There,  warm  together  press'd,  the  trooping  deer 
Sleep  on  the  new-fall'n  snows  ;  and  scarce  his  head 
Rais'd  o'er  the  heapy  wreath,  the  branching  elk 
Lies  slumbering  sullen  in  the  white  abyss. 
The  ruthless  hunter  wants  nor  dogs  nor  toils, 
Nor  with  the  dread  of  sounding  bows  he  drives 
The  fearful  flying  race  ;  with  ponderous  clubs, 
AH  weak  against  the  mountain-heaps  they  push 
Their  beating  breast  in  vain,  and  piteous  bray, 
He  lays  them  quivering  on  th'  ensanguin'd  snows 
And  with  loud  shouts  rejoicing  bears  them  home. 
*  The  oM  name  for  China. 


202  THE   SEASONS. 

There  through  the  piny  forest  half-absorpt, 
Rough  tenant  of  these  shades,  the  shapeless  bear, 
With  dangling  ice  all  horrid,  stalks  forlorn  ; 
Slow-pac'd,  and  sourer  as  the  storms  increase, 
He  makes  his  bed  beneath  th'  inclement  drift, 
And,  with  stern  patience,  scorning  weak  complaint, 
Hardens  his  heart  against  assailing  want. 

Wide  o'er  the  spacious  regions  of  the  north, 
That  see  Bootes  urge  his  tardy  wain, 
A  boisterous  race,  by  frosty  Caurus*  pierc'd, 
Who  little  pleasure  know,  and  fear  no  pain, 
Prolific  swarm.     They  once  relum'd  the  flame 
Of  lost  mankind  in  polish'd  slavery  sunk, 
Drove  martial  horde  on  horde, t  with  dreadful  sweep 
Resistless  rushing  o'er  th'  enfeebled  south, 
And  gave  the  vanquish'd  world  another  form. 
Not  such  the  sons  of  Lapland  :  wisely  they 
Despise  th'  insensate  barbarous  trade  of  war  ; 
They  ask  no  more  than  simple  Nature  gives, 
They  love  their  mountains,  and  enjoy  their  storms. 
No  false  desires,  no  pride-created  wants, 
Disturb  the  peaceful  current  of  their  time  ; 
And  through  the  restless  ever-tortur'd  maze 
Of  pleasure,  or  ambition,  bid  it  rage. 
Their  rein-deer  form  their  riches.     These  their  tents, 
Their  robes,  their  beds,  and  all  their  homely  wealth 
Supply,  their  wholesome  fare  and  cheerful  cups. 

*  The  North-west  wind. 
t  The  wandering  Scythian  clans 


WINTER.  203 

Obsequious  at  their  call,  the  docile  tribe 

Yield  to  the  sled  their  necks,  and  whirl  them  swift 

O'er  hill  and  dale,  heap'd  into  one  expanse 

Of  marbled  snow,  as  far  as  eye  can  sweep 

With  a  blue  crust  of  ice  unbounded  glaz'd. 

By  dancing  meteors  then,  that  ceaseless  shake 

A  waving  blaze  refracted  o'er  the  heavens, 

And  vivid  moons,  and  stars  that  keener  play 

Wil^idoubjedjustre  from  the  glossy  waste, 

Ev'n  in  the  depth  of  polar  night,  they  find 

A  wondrous  day  :  enough  to  light  the  chase, 

Or  guide  their  daring  steps  to  Finland  fairs. 

Wish'd  Spring  returns  ;  and  from  the  hazy  south, 

While  dim  Aurora  slowly  move*  before, 

The  welcome  sun,  just  verging  up  at  first, 

By  small  degrees  extends  the  swelling  curve  ! 

Till  seen  at  last  for  gay  rejoicing  months, 

Still  round  and  round,  his  spiral  course  he  winds, 

And  as  he  nearly  dips  his  flaming  orb, 

Wheels  up  again,  and  reascends  the  sky. 

In  that  glad  season,  from  the  lakes  and  floods, 

Where  pure  Niemi's*  fairy  mountains  rise, 

*  M.  de  Maupertuis,  in  his  book  on  the  Figure  of  the  Earth, 
after  having  described  the  beautiful  lake  and  mountain  of 
Niemi,  in  Lapland,  says,  ''From  this  height  we  had  oppor- 
tunity several  times  to  see  those  vapours  rise  from  the  lake 
which  the  people  of  the  country  call  Haltios,  and  which  they 
deem  to  be  the  guardian-spirits  of  the  mountains.  We  had 
been  frighted  with  stories  of  bears  that  haunted  this  place, 
hut  saw  none.  It  seemed  rather  a  place  of  resort  for  fairies 
and  genii,  than  bears." 


204 


THE   SRASONS. 


And  fring'd  with  roses  Tenglio  *  rolls  his  stre.im, 

They  draw  the  copious  fry.     With  these,  at  eve, ' 

They  cheerful  loaded  to  their  tents  repair  ; 

Where,  all  day  long  in  useful  cares  employ'd, 

Their  kind  unblemish'd  wives  the  fire  prepare. 

Thrice  happy  race  !  by  poverty  secur'd 

From  legal  plunder  and  rapacious  power  : 

In  whom  fell  interest  never  yet  has  sown 

The  seeds  of  vice  :  whose  spotless  swains  ne'er  knew 

Injurious  deed,  nor  blasted  by  the  breath 

Of  faithless  love,  their  blooming  daughters  woe. 

Still  pressing  on,  beyond  Tornea's  lake, 
And  Hecla  flaming  through  a  waste  of  snow, 
And  furthest  Greenland,  to  the  pole  itself, 
Where,  falling  gradual,  life  at  length  goes  out, 
The  Muse  expands  her  solitary  flight ; 
And,  hovering  o'er  the  wild,  stupendous  scene, 
Beholds  new  seas  beneath  another  sky.t 
Thron'd  in  his  palace  of  cerulean  ice, 
Here  Winter  holds  his  unrejoicing  court ; 
And  through  his  airy  hall  the  loud  misrule 
Of  driving  tempest  is  for  ever  heard  : 
Here  the  grim  tyrant  meditates  his  wrath  ; 
Here  arms  his  winds  with  all-subduing  frost  ; 
Moulds  his  fierce  hail,  and  treasures  up  his  snows, 
With  which  he  now  oppresses  half  the  globe. 

*The  same  author  observes,  "I  was  surprised  to  see  upon 
the  banks  of  this  river  (the  Tenglio)  roses  of  as  lively  a  red  as 
any  that  are  in  our  gardens." 

fThe  other  hemisphere. 


WINTER.  205 


Thence,  winding  eastward  to  the  Tartar's 
She  sweeps  the  howling  margin  of  the  main  ; 
Where  undissolving,  from  the  first  ofgtime, 
Snows  swell  ou  snows  amazing  to  the  sky  ; 
And  icy  mountains  high  on  mountains  pil'd, 
Seem  to  the  shivering  sailor  from  afar, 
Shapeless  and  white,  an  atmosphere  of  clouds. 
Projected  huge,  and  horrid  o'er  the  surge, 
Alps  frown  on  Alps  ;  or  rushing  hideous  down, 
As  if  old  Chaos  was  again  return'd, 
Wide-reud  the  deep,  and  shake  the  solid  pole. 
Ocean  itself  no  longer  can  resist 
The  binding  fury  ;  but,  in  all  its  rage 
Of  tempest  taken  by  the  boundless  frost, 
Is  many  a  fathom  to  the  bottom  chain'd, 
And  bid  to  roar  no  more  :  a  bleak  expanse 
Shagg'd  o'er  with  wavy  rocks,  cheerless,  and  void 
Of  every  life,  that  from  the  dreary  months 
Flies  conscious  southward.     Miserable  they  ! 
Who,  here  entangled  in  the  gathering  ice, 
Take  their  last  look  of  the  descending  sun  ; 
While,  full  of  death,  and  fierce  with  tenfold  frost 
The  long,  long  night,  incumbent  o'er  their  heads, 
Falls  horrible.     Such  was  the  Briton's*  fate, 
As  with  first  prow,  (what  have  not  Britons  dar"d  ?) 
He  for  the  passage  sought,  attempted  since 
So  much  in  vain,  and  seeming  to  be  shut 

*  Hit  Hugh  Willoughby,  sent  by  Queen  Elizabeth  to  discover 
the  north-east  passage. 


206  THK   SEASONS. 

By  jealous  Nature  with  eternal  bars. 
In  these  fell  regions,  in  Arzina  caught, 
And  to  the  stony  deep  his  idle  ship 
Immediate  seal'd,  he  with  his  hapless  crew 
Each  full  exerted  at  his  several  task, 
Froze  into  statues  ;  to  the  cordage  glued 
The  sailor,  and  the  pilot  to  the  helm. 

Hard  by  these  shores,  where  scarce  his  freezing  stream 
Rolls  the  wild  Oby,  live  the  last  of  men  ; 
And  half-enliven'd  by  the  distant  sun, 
That  reara  and  ripens  man,  as  well  as  plants, 
Here  human  Nature  wears  its  rudest  form. 
Deep  from  the  piercing  season  sunk  in  caves, 
Here  by  dull  fires,  and  with  unjoyous  cheer, 
They  waste  the  tedious  gloom.     Immers'd  in  furs, 
Doze  the  gross  race.     Nor  sprightly  jest,  nor  song, 
Nor  tenderness  they  know  ;  nor  aught  of  life, 
Beyond  the  kindred  bears  that  stalk  without, 
Till  morn  at  length,  her  roses  drooping  all, 
Sheds  a  long  twilight  brightening  o'er  their  fields, 
And  calls  the  quiver'd  savage  to  the  chase. 

What  cannot  active  government  perform, 
New  moulding  man?      Wide-stretching  from   these 

shores, 

A  people  savage  from  remotest  time, 
A  huge  neglected  empire,  one  vast  mind, 
By  Heaven  inspir'd,  from  gothic  darkness  call'd. 
Immortal  Peter  !  first  of  monarchs  !  he 
His  stubborn  country  tani'd,  her  rocks,  her  fens, 


WINTER.  2O7 

Her  floods,  her  seas,  her  ill-submitting  »ons  ; 

And  while  the  fierce  barbarian  he  subdu'd, 

To  more  exalted  soul  he  rais'd  the  man. 

Ye  shades  of  ancient  heroes,  ye  who  toil'd 

Through  long  successive  ages  to  build  up 

A  labouring  plan  of  state,  behold  at  once 

The  wonder  done  !  behold  the  matchless  prince  ! 

Who  left  his  native  throne,  where  reign'd  till  then 

A.  mighty  shadow  of  unreal  power  ; 

Who  greatly  spurn'd  the  slothful  pomp  of  courts  ; 

And  roaming  every  land,  in  every  port 

His  sceptre  lai<l  aside,  with  glorious  hand 

Unwearied  plying  the  mechanic  tool, 

Gathered  the  seeds  of  trade,  of  useful  arts, 

of  civil  wisdom,  and  of  martial  skill. 

Charg'd  with  the  stores  of  Europe  home  he  goes  ! 

Then  cities  rise  amid  th'  illumin'd  waste  ; 

O'er  joyless  deserts  smiles  the  rural  reign  ; 

Far  distant  flood  to  flood  is  social  joiu'd  ; 

Th'  astonish 'd  Euxine  hears  the  Baltic  roar  ; 

Proud  navies  ride  on  seas  that  never  foam'd 

With  daring  keel  before  ;  and  armies  stretch 

Each  way  their  dazzling  files,  repressing  here 

The  frantic  Alexander  of  the  north, 

And  awing  there  stern  Othman's  shrinking  sous. 

Sloth  flies  the  laud,  and  Ignorance,  and  Vice, 

Of  old  dishonour  proud  :  it  glows  around, 

Taught  by  the  Royal  Hand  that  rous'd  the  whole 

One  scene  of  arts,  of  arms,  of  rising  trade  : 


208  THE  8EASUKS. 

For  what  his  wisdom  plaau'd,  and  power  enfovc'd, 
More  potent  still,  his  great  example  show'd. 

Muttering,  the  winds  at  eve,  with  blunted  point, 
Blow  hollow-blustering  from  the  south.     Subdued, 
The  frost  resolves  into  a  trickling  thaw. 
Spotted  the  mountains  shine  ;  loose  sleet  descends, 
And  floods  the  country  round.     The  rivers  swell, 
Of  bonds  impatient.     Sudden  from  the  hills, 
O'er  rocks  and  woods,  in  broad  brown  cataracts, 
A  thousand  snow-fed  torrents  shoot  at  once  ; 
And,  where  they  rush,  the  wide-resounding  plain 
Is  left  one  slimy  waste.     Those  sullen  seas, 
That  wash'd  the  ungenial  pole,  will  rest  no  more 
Beneath  the  shackles  of  the  mighty  north  ; 
But,  rousing  all  their  waves,  resistless  heave. 
And,  hark  !  the  lengthening  roar  continuous  runs 
Athwart  the  rifted  deep  :  at  once  it  bursts, 
And  piles  a  thousand  mountains  to  the  clouds. 
Ill  fares  the  bark  with  trembling  wretches  charg;d, 
That,  tost  amid  the  floating  fragments,  moors 
Beneath  the  shelter  of  an  icy  isle, 
While  night  o'erwhelms  the  sea,  and  horror  looks 
More  horrible.     Can  human  force  endure 
Th'  assembled  mischiefs  that  besiege  them  round  ? 
Heart-gnawing  hunger,  fainting  weariness, 
The  roar  of  winds  and  waves,  the  crush  of  ice, 
Now  ceasing,  now  renew'd  with  louder  rage, 
And  in  dire  echoes  bellowing  round  the  main. 
More  to  embroil  the  deep,  Leviathan, 


WIXTKR.  20'J 

And  his  unwieldy  train,  in  dreadful  sport, 

Tempest  the  loosen'd  brine,  while  through  the  gloom, 

F;ir  from  the  bleak  inhospitable  shon-, 

Loading  the  winds,  is  heard  the  hungry  howl 

Of  famish'.!  monsters,  there  awaiting  wrecks. 

Yet  Providence,  that  ever- waking  eye, 

Looks  down  with  pity  on  the  feeble  toil 

Of  mortals  lost  to  hope,  and  lights  them  safe, 

Through  all  this  dreary  labyrinth  of  fate. 

Tis  done  !  dread  Winter  spreads  his  latest  glooms, 
And  reigns  tremendous  o'er  the  eonquerM  Year. 
How  dead  the  vegetable  kingdom  lies  ! 
How  dumb  the  tuneful !  horror  wide  extends 
His  desolate  domain.     Behold,  fond  man  ! 
See  here  thy  pictur"d  life  ;  pass  some  few  years. 
Thy  flowering  Spring,  thy  Summer's  ardent  strength, 
Thy  sober  Autumn  fading  into  age, 
And  pale  concluding  Winter  comes  at  last, 
And  shuts  the  scene.     Ah !  whither  now  are  fled 
Those  dreams  of  greatness  ?  those  unsolid  hopes 
Of  happiness  ?  those  longings  after  fame  ? 
Those  restless  cares?  those  busy  bustling  days? 
Those     gay -spent,     festive     nights?     those     veering 

thoughts, 

Lost  between  good  and  ill,  that  shar'd  thy  life  'I 
All  now  are  vanish'd  !  Virtue  sole  survives, 
Immortal  never-failing  friend  of  Man, 
His  guide  to  happiness  on  high.     And  see  ! 
Tis  come,  the  glorious  morn  !  the  second  birth 


'2}Q  THE   SEASONS. 

Of  heaven  and  earth  !  awakening  Nature  hears 

The  new-creating  word,  and  starts  to  life, 

In  every  heighten'd  form,  from  pain  and  death 

For  ever  free.     The  great  eternal  scheme,  , 

Involving  all,  and  in  a  perfect  whole 

Uniting,  as  the  prospect  wider  spreads, 

To  Reason's  eye  refin'd  clears  up  apace. 

Ye  vainly  wise  !  ye  blind  presumptuous  !  now, 

Confounded  in  the  dust,  adore  that  Power 

And  Wisdom  oft  arraign'd  :  see  now  the  cause, 

Why  unassuming  worth  in  secret  liv'd, 

And  died,  neglected  :  why  the  good  man's  share 

In  life  was  gall  and  bitterness  of  soul : 

Why  the  lone  widow  and  her  orphans  pin'd 

In  starving  solitude  ;  while  luxury, 

In  palaces,  lay  straining  her  low  thought, 

To  form  unreal  wants  :  why  heaven-born  truth, 

And  moderation  fair,  wore  the  red  marks 

Of  superstition's  scourge  :  why  licens'd  pain, 

That  cruel  spoiler,  that  embosom'd  foe, 

Embitter'd  all  our  bliss.     Ye_good  distress'd  ! 

Ye  noble  few  !  who  here  unbending  stand 

Beneath  life's  pressure,  yet  bear  up  awhile, 

And  what  your  bounded  view,  which  only  saw 

A  little  part,  deem'd  evil,  is  no  more  : 

The  storms  of  Wintry  Time  will  quickly  pass, 

And  one  unbounded  Spring  encircle  all. 


There  let  1i.e  sluepherds  flute,  tke  virgiiis  lay, 
Still  sing"  the  GOD  OF  SEASON'S,  as  they  roll '._ 


i>HAWN    BY  HfCIIABn  WESTALL.-R.A.ENGRAVED  BY  CHARLES    KOF.L 


HYMN. 


THESE,  as  they  change,  ALMIGHTY  FATHER,  these 
Are  but  the  varied  GOD.     The  rolling  year 
Is  full  of  THEE.     Forth  in  the  pleasing  Spring 
THY^  beauty  walks,  THY  tenderness  and  love. 
Wide  flush  the  fields ;  the  softening  air  is  balm  ; 
Echo  the  mountains  round  :  the  forest  smiles  ; 
And  every  sense,  and  every  heart  is  joy. 
Then  comes  THY  glory  in  the  Summer  months, 
With  light  and  heat  refulgent.     Then  THY  sun 
Shoots  full  perfection  through  the  swelling  year  : 
And  oft  THY  voice  in  dreadful  thunder  speaks  : 
And  oft  at  dawn,  deep  noon,  or  falling  eve, 
By  brooks  and  groves,  in  hollow- whispering  gales. 
THY  bounty  shines  in  Autumn  uncontin'd, 
And  spreads  a  common  feast  for  all  that  lives. 
In  Winter  awful  THOU  !  with  clouds  and  storms 
Around  THEE  thrown,  tempest  o'er  tempest  roll'd. 
Majestic  darkness  !  on  the  whirlwind's  wing, 
Riding  sublime,  THOU  bidst  the  world  adore, 
And  humblest  Nature  with  THY  northern  blast. 

Mysterious  round  !  what  skill,  what  force  divine, 
Deep  felt,  in  these  appear  !  a  simple  train, 


212  THE  SEASONS. 

Yet  so  delightful  mix'd,  with  such  kind  art, 
Such  beauty  and  beneficence  combin'd  ; 
Shade,  imperceiv'd,  so  softening  into  shade  ; 
And  all  so  forming  an  harmonious  whole  ; 
That,  as  they  still  succeed,  they  ravish  still. 
But  wandering  oft,  with  brute  unconscious  gaze, 
Man  marks  not  THEE,  marks  not  the  mighty  hand 
That,  ever-busy,  wheels  the  silent  spheres  ; 
Works  in  the  secret  deep  ;  shoots,  steaming,  thence 
The  fair  profusion  that  o'erspreads  the  Spring  : 
Flings  from  the  sun  direct  the  flaming  day  ; 
Feeds  every  creature  ;  hurls  the  tempest  forth  ; 
And,  as  on  earth  this  grateful  change  revolves, 
With  transport  touches  all  the  springs  of  life. 

Nature,  attend  !  join  every  living  soul, 
Beneath  the  spacious  temple  of  the  sky, 
In  adoration  join  ;  and,  ardent,  raise 
One  general  song  !  To  HIM,  ye  vocal  gales, 
Breathe  soft,  whose  Spirit  in  your  freshness  breathes 
Oh,  talk  of  HIM  in  solitary  glooms  ! 
Where,  o'er  the  rock,  the  scarcely  waving  pine 
Fills  the  brown  shade  with  a  religious  awe. 
And  ye,  whose  bolder  note  is  heard  afar, 
Who  shake  th'  astonish'd  world,  lift  high  to  heaven 
Th'  impetuous  song,  and  say  from  whom  you  rage. 
His  praise,  ye  brooks,  attune,  ye  trembling  rills  : 
And  let  me  catch  it  as  I  muse  along. 
Ye  headlong  torrents,  rapid,  and  profound  ; 
Ye  softer  floods,  that  lead  the  humid  maze 


HYMN.  213 

Along  the  vale  ;  and  thou,  majestic  main, 

A  secret  world  of  wonders  in  thyself, 

Sound  His  stupendous  praise  ;  whose  greater  voice 

Or  bids  you  roar,  or  bids  your  roarings  fall. 

Soft  roll  your  incense,  herbs,  and  fruits,  and  flowers, 

In  mingled  clouds  to  HIM  ;  whose  sun  exalts, 

Whose  breath  perfumes  you,  and  whose  pencil  paints. 

Ye  forests  bend,  ye  harvests  wave  to  HIM  ; 

Breathe  your  still  song  into  the  reaper's  heart, 

As  home  he  goes  beneath  the  joyous  moon. 

Ye  that  keep  watch  in  heaven,  as  earth  asleep 

Unconscious  lies,  effuse  your  mildest  beams, 

Ye  constellations,  while  your  angels  strike, 

Amid  the  spangled  sky,  the  silver  lyre. 

Great  source  of  day  !  best  image  here  below 

Of  thy  CREATOR,  ever  pouring  wide, 

From  world  to  world,  the  vital  ocean  round, 

On  Nature  write  with  every  beam  His  praise. 

The  Thunder  rolls  :  be  hush'd  the  prostrate  world  : 

While  cloud  to  cloud  returns  the  solemn  hymn. 

Bleat  out  afresh,  ye  hills  :  ye  mossy  rocks, 

Retain  the  sound  :  the  broad  responsive  lowe, 

Ye  valleys,  raise  ;  for  the  GREAT  SHKPHKRD  reigns  ; 

And  His  nimutfering  kingdom  yet  will  come. 

Ye  woodlands  all,  awake  :  a  boundless  song 

Burst  from  the  groves  !  and  when  the  restless  day, 

Expiring,  lays  the  warbling  world  asleep, 

Sweetest  of  birds  !  sweet  Philomela  charm 

The  listening  shades,  and  teach  the  night  His  praise. 


214  THE   SEASONS. 

Ye  chief,  for  whom  the  whole  creation  smiles, 
At  once  the  head,  the  heart,  and  tongue  of  all, 
Crown  the  great  hymn  ;  in  swarming  cities  vast, 
Assembled  men,  to  the  deep  organ  join 
The  long-resounding  voice,  oft-breaking  clear, 
At  solemn  pauses,  through  the  swelling  base  ; 
And,  as  each  mingling  flame  increases  each, 
In  one  united  ardour  rise  to  heaven. 
Or  if  you  rather  choose  the  rural  shade, 
And  find  a  fane  in  every  sacred  grove  ; 
There  let  the  shepherd's  flute,  the  virgin's  lay, 
The  prompting  seraph  and  the  poet's  lyre, 
Still  sing  the  GOD  OF  SEASONS,  as  they  roll ! — 
For  me,  when  I  forget  the  darling  theme, 
Whether  the  blossom  blows,  the  summer-ray 
Russets  the  plain,  inspiring  Autumn  gleams, 
Or  Winter  rises  in  the  blackening  east ; 
Be  my  tongue  mute,  may  fancy  paint  no  more, 
And,  dead  to  joy,  forget  my  heart  to  beat ! 

Should  fate  command  me  to  the  furthest  verge 
Of  the  green  earth,  to  distant  barbarous  climes, 
Rivers  unknown  to  song  ;  where  first  the  sun 
Gilds  Indian  mountains,  or  his  setting  beam 
Flames  on  th'  Atlantic  isles  ;  'tis  nought  to  me  : 
Since  GOD  is  ever  present,  ever  felt, 
In  the  void  waste  as  in  the  city  full ; 
And  where  HE  vital  breathes  there  must  be  joy. 
When  even  at  last  the  solemn  hour  shall  come, 
And  wing  my  mystic  flight  to  future  worlds, 


HVMV  -_MO 

I  cheerful  will  obey  ;  there,  with  new  lowers, 

Will  rising  wonders  sing  :  I  cannot  go 

Where  Universal  Love  not  smiles  around, 

Sustaining  all  yon  orbs,  and  all  their  sous  ; 

From  seeming  Evil  still  educing  Good, 

And  better  thence  again,  and  better  still, 

In  infinite  progression.     But  I  lose 

Myself  in  HIM,  in  Light  ineffable  ? 

Come  then,  expressive  Silence,  muse  His  praise. 


THE    END. 


GLASGOW  : 

f)rinUt>  at  the  Slnitotrsitg  JJrese,  bj> 

ROBEKT   MACLRIIOSE,    153    WEST   NII.K   STRKET 


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